


Silent Retreat

by trylonandperisphere



Series: Silent Retreat [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-16
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-04 15:02:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 55,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4142166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trylonandperisphere/pseuds/trylonandperisphere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been over a decade since Cosima disappeared, fleeing from the constant fear and stress of being monitored by DYAD.  Delphine's life has changed, but can she really be happy?  An unexpected trip will bring back everything she tried to leave behind in the past.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, I started this fic before season 3 started airing, when all I had was conjecture and a few spoilers. During the season, I kept wondering if I should retcon it to reflect canon, but my lovely betas all said to keep it as it is, as an AU. So, imagine if you will, instead of season 3 unfolding as it has, that Cosima decided she'd had enough of being DYAD's pawn and plaything...
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful betas, tatarrific, tumblweed, cophinaphile, otp324b21, and the inimitable jaybear1701, whose cheering kept me going through writer's block in the quiet, gloomy, wee hours of the morning. XOXO!

_Jesus Christ, Elaine,_ I thought as another explosion of thunder tore through the sky.   _Putain de merde._

Of course, I knew she meant well.  She was not only the Deputy Dean of Research and Applied Sciences, but she was my good friend.  She saw how tired I’d been, how listless I’d become, and she only wanted to help.

“It’ll be fantastic, Delphine,” she’d said, “just what the doctor ordered.  And, in this case, I’m the doctor.”  Her smile was genuine.

“I, I don’t mean to seem unappreciative, but I’m fine, and this is really not my thing,” I tried to counter.  “I’m really a city girl, and you know I hate yoga…”

“Just go, Delphine,” she insisted, gently, patting my hand and closing my fingers around the ticket.  “We both know that you haven’t been fine.  And it’s not just yoga.  Seriously, doing this five years ago changed my life.  I want you to have the same thing.”

So, here I was, after a long flight, transferring to a series of more long flights on increasingly tiny airplanes (until the last one sat only six, but only held me and the pilots;) landing on a tiny swath of grass amidst a sea of trees, where someone’s disinterested looking abuela was waving two orange cones, a chicken at her feet.  Next came the bumpiest, messiest, most alarming road trip I’d ever been on, our four-wheel drive vehicle getting caught in what only could be described as chasms and rivers, the driver rocking it back and forth in gear to slide out of the mud, while small children in school uniforms and backpacks passed us, unconcerned, shoes strung around their necks.  Here I was, on, _mon Dieu,_ I hoped, the last leg of this terrifying journey, in a tiny metal boat, in a choppy, churning ocean, as the sky poured rain that smacked into my face like icy needles and blurred my vision, the flash and crack of lightning all around, convincing me that the driver and I were going to die, while simultaneously sinking into an exhausted resignation.

 _I’m going to die,_ I thought.   _I wonder if that’s what Elaine wanted me to experience, some sort of peace following from the acceptance that I would die._  I cursed her again under my breath.

Of course I’d seemed listless.  Classes were over and my most recent study was finished.  I was meant to go to a professional conference in Denmark, but was pulled at the last minute when the administration had some kind of falling-out with the organizers, and promised to send me to a conference in the winter, instead.  Here I was, for the first time in, possibly, years, with a stretch of weeks before me with nothing to do but the occasional paperwork.  Other faculty were busy or away on studies or vacation.  And I, thanks to my cheating ex-boyfriend, was alone.

“It’s called a silent retreat,” Elaine had said. “You’re in the middle of this gorgeous jungle, and you wake up in the morning and there’s meditation, and yoga, and the most amazing vegan and raw breakfast…”

“Wait, you mean there’s no talking,” I asked, finding the idea of being alone inside my head, only among a lot of sweaty strangers and giant insects, less than appealing.    “What if I get bitten by a snake?  How do I know if it’s poisonous?  Am I supposed to lie there, dying, waving my hands in hopes someone will notice?”

“Don’t be so dramatic, Delphine,” she scoffed.  “See, this is how I know you’re worn out — you’re so snappish.  Of course you could call for help, and there is some talking.  You get facilitators and guides to meet with, there are group shares, and there are breaks for hikes, exercises, drumming, that sort of thing.”

“Group shares, Elaine?”  I’m sure my mouth hung open. _“Drumming?”_

“Don’t give me that kicked puppy look,” she pushed back, not knowing the sudden pang her choice of words would give me.  “It’ll be good for you.  What else have you got to do?  You can thank me later.”

 _I’m sure I look like a drowned puppy, now,_ I thought, clinging to my soaked shoulder bag, as another flash and roll of lightning convinced me I might actually wet my pants — not that anyone would notice — when the driver started shouting something in Spanish over the noise of the engine.  I had brushed up on a few phrases for tourists, but there was no way I was going to understand his rapid-fire yelling, now, especially over the wailing of the wind and the rattle of the engine. _I wonder if he’s telling me we’re sinking,_ I thought, and then, trying to have some hope, _or maybe that we’re turning around?_

No such luck, either way, as through the fog I suddenly saw looming a mountain, and then another, a dark chain of hills just in front of us, covered in dense jungle foliage.  We approached them rapidly, and then out of nowhere there was a dock, and the driver slowed us until a wave pushed the side of the dinghy into a ladder with a dull thump.  At his urging, I uncurled myself painfully from the crouch I’d been frozen in, and hauled myself up, boots slipping on the wet rungs.  There was a sudden splash of yellow before me that resolved itself into the arm of a woman in a hooded rain poncho.  She grabbed my arm and helped me up.

“Hello!  I’m Margot,” she smiled, as my shaking knees found balance on the dock.  “Pretty nice storm we’ve got going here, huh?  Let me take you up to the office.”

I could barely see what she looked like in the rain and grey light, but I nodded.  I glanced behind me to see the driver picking up my larger bag and slinging it over his shoulder like it was a sack of airy feathers.  To my disappointment, Margot didn’t offer to take my carry-on.  As we rounded a bend, I saw a trail before us, heading up the mountain.  There were rudimentary, far spaced stairs and footholds carved into each side, but the majority of it had turned into a brown, raging river carrying the rain and detritus from above.  I wanted to give up.  But the driver zipped by us at an impressive pace, carrying the weight of my luggage with him, and Margot turned and smiled as if it were a level footpath on a pleasant day, so I willed my feet forward and headed up behind her.

By the end of the evening I was exhausted.  Margot, a fit-looking older woman with permanent smile lines etched into her face, had checked me in at the small, wooden cabin of an office, and given me the details on where things were and what time I had to be up in the morning (yoga and meditation at 6:30?  Wasn’t this supposed to be a holiday?)  She explained the rules of silence to me, that we were to use our quiet time in contemplation, or just _being in the now,_ as she put it.  She assured me that I would get used to it and find it transformative, and also that there would be opportunities each day to talk, if we wanted, although most people opted out.

She had my bag carried to my cabin, and I walked, almost tripping over a small patch of tropical flowers in the near-darkness, to the restaurant just across the path.  It was large, rustic and open-sided, with wooden beams around the edges holding up the roof and a low natural wood panel wall rising just above the height of the tables, so one could lean one’s elbow on it and look outside while eating, still protected by the eaves.  I sat down to dinner by myself, the rest of the attendees having checked in the day before and eaten on schedule.  I was halfway through a bland meal of rice and beans with steamed vegetables, imagining that the view must be lovely when it wasn’t dark and pouring buckets from the sky, when there was a deafening _boom_ that shook the restaurant, and the lights went out, one bulb above me bursting with an alarming pop and a brief shower of sparks in the gloom.  The woman serving me shook her head.

“What are the odds, madam,” she mused, barely phased, in her thick Spanish accent.  “A direct hit.  I can get you, em, lantern to finish eat, or take you to your room.”

“My room, please, euh, _por favor_ ,” I answered, grimacing at my own poor pronunciation.  I had had enough.  She nodded, and, after retrieving a lantern and an umbrella, walked me through a series of small trails marked with white stones to my cabin.

It was definitely a cabin.  As at the restaurant, the walls were wood and what looked like some kind of adobe or stucco over concrete.  The front was one long open porch, with a low wall and some wooden lounge chairs and a table under the eaves, along with a hammock and clothes-hanging line.  There was a fairly spacious bedroom, dominated by a low double bed draped in mosquito netting, along with two small lamps and a few pieces of furniture.  The door to the porch and the windows on either side were covered only in screens with shutters.  A quick look into the bathroom revealed a terra-cotta tiled shower, a simple toilet and a sink, with a small shelf with towels and some organic bath products ( _please conserve water_ , a sign said.   _Save our rainforests!  Reuse towels, or leave them on the floor for housekeeping.  Towels on the rack will be left._ )  The reminder in the middle of a deluge seemed ironic.

“Remember, the generators go off at nine o’clock,” the woman said, and headed out the door with a nod.  I hope the tip I’d left on the dining room table had covered the walk, as well.

Two spiders and a gecko shared my quick, lukewarm shower.

I’d barely worked my way through the mosquito netting and laid down when the lights went out.  I turned on my battery powered reading light and stared at the research papers I had brought to study.  I couldn’t focus.  The rain had slowed to a dull patter all around me, and the thunder had faded into the distance.  It was dark, unreasonably so, I thought, my eyes straining to take in shapes, even though I knew they would be strange and unfamiliar, anyway.  I turned off my light and closed my eyes.  The mattress was some kind of foam, fairly thin, so I could feel the hardness of the wooden platform beneath.  The air was stuffy and beyond humid, wet.  I realized my hair and body were probably never going to dry at this rate, and that sleeping might feel a bit like drowning.  I was exhausted, but the surreality of the situation and my discomfort kept me awake.

  
_Elaine, je vais te tuer,_ I thought, then remembered nothing more than rolling over a couple times in the night in reaction to thunder, until the early morning hours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little apology in advance in case I get any French or Spanish translations wrong. I have a couple people to check them for me, but it hasn’t happened yet and I wanted to start posting this.

I swore it was the wail of a demon, or an angry ghost, that awoke me.  It was still full dark, although the rain seemed to have ended, when I jolted up in bed from the sound.  It was otherworldly — a low, scraping sort of roar, distant and reverberating, but frighteningly loud.  My heart was pounding.

 

It came again, starting out low and rising, like a stick being drawn against a giant wooden fence.  I gripped my moist sheets.  Then, another sound, a series of rhythmic hooting and howls…

 

_Howls…_ I remembered the guidebook I had been reading.   _Howler monkeys._

 

I let myself accept this theory in some relief, but it didn’t let me sleep.  The noises continued, and I checked the clock on my phone.  5:18 AM, local time.  I might as well get up.

 

I was halfway through dressing when I realized the noises had stopped.  I finished pulling my newly-purchased yoga pants up my legs with some difficulty, due to the stickiness of the air, checked my braid (no keeping manageable hair in this weather,) and walked to the door.  When I opened it, the sky shone through the screen in a progression of sunrise lavenders and pinks, large, fluffy clouds on the horizon, hovering over a now-placid sea below the trees.  The sound of squawks and trills, whistles and rattles came to me in a wave, enveloping me in a song of bird calls and insect greetings.  I was struck again by the strange reality of this new setting, but this time, I registered the beauty along with it.

 

There was the sound of a low gong.  The call to breakfast?

 

I said “good morning” to the woman at the front of the restaurant before I realized it.  She simply smiled and nodded, white teeth in a copper mestizo face, and pressed her index fingers to her lips.   _Right,_ silent _retreat,_ I reminded myself, and headed for the buffet.  I loaded my plate with a small muffin and a pile of tropical fruits, grabbed some coffee, and looked for a place to sit.

 

Most of the dining room was full,now, so I settled at a round table already occupied by several other people in variations on spandex and cotton yoga clothing.  The woman next to me wore a shirt saying “Don’t Hate, Meditate,” and she looked up and gave me a smile as I settled. I struggled again to keep a pleasantry from my lips.  Was it an annoyance, or a relief?  The sounds from the waking jungle were still resonating, but oddly, the sounds of cutlery and stoneware clinking and tapping seemed louder, almost intrusive, over them.  I could hear the people around me moving, breathing.  I could hear myself chewing.  I decided to try to shake off the odd discomfort of this, and just take in what was around me, from the nearly fluorescent pink of a guava to the emerging yellows and blues of the sky as the sunrise shifted, a myriad of greens, deep to radiant, forming the swaths of jungle forest below.

 

This didn’t stop me from noticing that the famous local coffee was weak. _Maybe because we’re supposed to be drinking spring water, turmeric elixirs and herbal tea,_ I thought.

 

When I finished, I followed the simple signs to the “Sun Blossom Rm/Yoga studio.”  It was warm and inviting, with peach-coloured walls and large windows letting the cross-breeze in. I found a spot and opened the yoga mat I had been given at check-in.  Unrolling it was an awkward endeavour for me, as I’d not done it often.  The room was fairly full, but quiet, as people sat cross-legged or padded about in bare feet.  As pleasant as it seemed, a sense of dread still coiled in my stomach.  I didn’t expect to like this, to be comfortable with it, and I was already tired of being covered in a film of sweat.  I was fully prepared to feel awkward, hot and further annoyed at Elaine.

 

The silence became more pronounced as Margot walked in.  She turned to the group and tapped a little wooden noisemaker shaped like a frog.  This was the signal that someone would speak.

 

“Good morning, everyone, and namaste,” she smiled, her whole presence radiating welcome.  “We have a little change in plans.  As some of you may already know, Leilani was unable to make it to this retreat to teach morning meditation and yoga.  However, we’ve got a wonderful person here to take her place. Some of you may know her from previous visits.  May I introduce Cosima Niehaus.”

 

_Quoi? Est-ce que ça vient juste de se passer?_  Suddenly, I felt like I was in a dream, again.

 

But there she was. _Cosima._  She entered the room with her trademark grin and wave, as some of the participants clapped.  The way she walked was different than it had been years ago, her gait somehow softer, more balanced.  She still had those dreadlocks, although they were longer and some were capped with beads.  Her glasses were missing, and her eyeliner softer, but other than that and a bit of greying at her temples, progressing down a couple of locks on one side, she could have been the same woman I knew, I loved, so long ago.

 

I was holding my breath.  I tried not to make a loud sound, but to release it slowly.

 

She turned to face us, and her cropped tank top and yoga shorts displayed a few more changes.  Her skin was well tanned, and her already strong frame and limbs had become even more muscular.  The definition in her arms, her legs, her abdominals, made my mouth go dry.  A few veins and sinews in her hands, now only sporting a few small rings, were prominent.  There was perhaps a small crinkle at the corner of her eye, a divot in her brow, a slight, dimple-like line in her warm, gorgeous smile that hadn’t been there before, but the tide in my body rose in reaction to her presence. _Putain!_  I felt like I’d been knocked off-kilter.  Could this really be happening?  I struggled to ground myself in the unfamiliar surroundings.  Was she really here?

 

“Heyyy,” she began, and there could be no more doubt.  She looked around the first few rows, pressing and twisting her hands together.  “Namaste, everyone.  I’m really excited to be here with you all.  I’m going to start with a meditation, with very little speaking.  Just follow my breaths.  As we move into yoga, I’ll be demonstrating the advanced positions, and Reynaldo,” here she gestured to a handsome young man in nothing but a pair of shorts, “will show you modified versions.  If any of you have any questions, issues, or physical impairments, feel free to raise your hands during the yoga practice or find me at the end of the session.”

 

Her eyes were flickering around the room, and suddenly, they landed on me.  They may have widened, her smile may have suddenly faltered almost imperceptibly, become tight, but she took a breath and her gaze moved on.

 

_Cosima,_ I thought again, with the full force of a squeeze of my heart, with the rush of blood pumping through my arteries, with a quiver in my stomach and my lip between my teeth.

 

“We’ll be using a combination of several methods similar to ISHTA yoga, so everyone might encounter something a little bit new,” she explained.  “Okay, thank you, Margot.  Everyone get into a comfortable meditating position, and let’s begin.”

 

It took me a moment to react and get into position, legs crossed, back upright.  That seemed to be what was popularly done, anyway, I figured.  Still, my eyes were rooted to her.  She assumed a similar position and picked up something from the ground.  She took a deep breath, and everyone in the room followed her, in through the nose, out through the mouth.  She closed her eyes and took another.  Everyone else did so, except me.  I couldn’t close my eyes, yet.  I was still taking her in.  Even the sun seemed attracted to her, a beam bursting from between the clouds and illuminating her body in a diagonal swath from her neck to her far knee, obligingly cut off before it reached her eyes to blind her.  My whole spine was buzzing, the acid and fruits dancing in my stomach.  

 

_I wonder if she can see the changes in me, I thought.  The lines in my face, the darkness under my eyes.  I wonder if she can see all that time there, all that…_ I guessed it was loneliness.  A loneliness that I hadn’t admitted to myself for some time, that I’d even thought I might have “gotten over.”  My breath came shakily, and I suddenly felt the sting of tears in my eyes.  I quickly looked down, eyes on the mat before me.  

 

_Just follow the class.  It will be over soon and then you can figure out what you’re going to do,_ I told myself.  But my eyes crept back up. _Just to her hands,_ I thought.   _Non?  Then just up to her shoulders..._

 

She took the item in her hands and pulled out a small mallet.  I recognized the other piece as some kind of metal tube or rod attached to a piece of wood,  Firmly, but softly, she tapped the mallet to the metal.  It was some sort of bell.  A rich, humming ring inhabited the room, and vibrated softly in my heart.  I was able to close my eyes with it.

 

“First, we start with breath,” she murmured softly.

 

_Yes. Breathe. Just concentrate on that,_ I thought.

  
After all I had been through, all I had endured and faced with strength, who knew something so unlikely as finding her here, so seemingly innocuous as breathing along with her, would shake me so hard?


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Meanwhile, back in fic, where everyone's alive...

" _Merde,"_  I muttered to myself, again and again, chewing on my thumbnail. I took a deep inhale of smoke, both chiding and congratulating myself for having brought some cigarettes, despite the repeated language in the retreat materials about "living clean, at one with nature."  _Tobacco is a natural plant,_  I grumbled internally, then peered around from behind the palm tree at the edge of the resort where I'd hidden myself. The coast was still clear, as far as I could tell.

I had meant to say something. I had meant, by the end of the class, to be ready to speak to her, to move calmly, to have gotten over my nerves enough to maturely say hello. That didn't work out. Instead, I had whisked up my mat, nearly tripping over it, and rushed out. I didn't even know if she'd seen me do it.  _Dieu, she must have seen me do it, and known how rattled I am,_ I tortured myself,  _or maybe she didn't. Maybe she was tuned into the rest of the class, completely centered, as calm as her voice had been, as strong as her body had been flowing from pose to pose._ I didn't know which would be worse.

 _What am I going to do?_  The question came to me again. Part of me wanted to run, to get away as far as I could, to demand I be taken immediately to the closest village and sent off on the soonest flight. Another part wanted to run to her, to confront her, to hug her…  _non, I have more control than that, I told myself._ I remembered just how much control I had forced myself to have, in order to do what I thought needed to be done, in order to walk away from her. I remembered the last words she had said to me when I thought I'd stabilized the situation at DYAD enough, and tried to win her back.

"I can't. I can't do this, anymore, and I can't go back to the way we were," she had said, voice hollow with an echoing pain. "You made your choice, Delphine, and now I have to make mine."

And then "I love you, Delphine… but this is it." And then she was gone.

 _I can't believe it, that she's here, that I am,_ my mind repeated. " _What are the odds, madam,"_ my mind quoted from the staff woman, " _a direct hit."_ I briefly entertained the notion that Elaine had somehow known. That she had searched out the woman I'd loved from the few, somber, regretful details I'd shared with her, that she had sent me here on purpose. But no, she wouldn't do that, and if Cosima had effectively disappeared to me, to Topside, to the government, those years ago, there's no way Elaine could have ferreted her out. I had to accept it was fate, or circumstance, a gift, or punishment. I coughed and cursed again as I accidentally sucked the ember down to the filter, pulling in an acrid taste and burning my fingers. I threw it down with a grunt, then carefully stomped it out, and hid it in my pocket.

I had already missed a talk on the spiritual mythos of the forest, a sharing session and lunch. I was going to have to pull myself together, or the organizers would send someone looking for me.  _They'd probably think I'd gotten treed and eaten by wild boars,_ my most churlish self whispered in my ear.  _That might be relatively less painful._

_Non, I am a strong woman. A professional. A scientist. I have pushed forward through many tests, in order to stay true to what is right. It's been over a decade and I've had a career, relationships. I can handle this._

I cut off my thoughts before they could fully ask if what I had chosen was really right.

I let out one more breath as Cosima had that morning, in through the nose, out through the mouth. I straightened my shoulders, and pulled out my schedule.

" _Finding You in Rhythm_ ," I read from the paper.  _I hope it's not drumming. I hope it's god-damned rock and roll,_  my internal monologue opined. It didn't matter.  _I did love to dance, when I was younger. Maybe shaking out my body would help me release the tension, feel present and grounded._

I walked back toward my cabin to get ready for class.


	4. Chapter 4

Of course she would be assisting the class.

I had decided to try to drop my cynicism, my discomfort, and just take from the session what I could. When the music started, the beat began to move me. I had trained in dance as a youth, and my body still responded to the rumble of drums, the low jostle of bass. I closed my eyes and let myself move freely, as the teacher had instructed. My hips circled, my head rolled, and I let my shoulders drop, shaking out tension through my hands, stretching the balls of my feet. My torso rolled in waves, and I felt connected, again, in touch with my body after it's sudden hijacking by my anxious brain and aching heart.

And then the tall man in front of me shifted, and I saw her.

She was magical. She was jazz and she was fire and she was one with the music while simultaneously soaring above it. Her hips were loose, swaying, dangerous. Her hands, always so expressive, turned into butterflies, to birds, to entreaties from a goddess to worship her.

My heart stopped, my body stilled, and my chest and groin both felt an electric thrill.

_Get it together,_  Delphine.  _You're being so dramatic. You're not a love-sick child._   _You don't even know her anymore. Don't idealize her. Choices were made._

I backed up, awkward in my movements, now, and leaned against the rear wall. Cosima and the instructor were both moving amongst the people, touching them lightly, encouraging them to loosen up, asking them to let their bodies express their emotions, their thoughts, their hang-ups and joys. Cosima went from serious and reassuring to her broadest grin so quickly, really looking at and being with each individual.

And then her eyes travelled to me.

A small frown line deepened between her brows.

_She's mad at me, she's uncomfortable_ , I thought.  _She thinks I'm following her, or that I'm a mess._

But then her gaze gentled. And she looked at me with a softness, a question, with care.

I quickly ducked out the door.

The night was cooler now, and less sticky, and I gulped in air, feeling strangely chilled. The music was too loud for me now, even outside, it hurt my ears and addled my mind.

I ran back to my cabin.

I sagged on the bed, chest heaving, as memories flooded my head.

Cosima, at the school, talking, laughing, hands spreading and arcing, echoing her quick wit, that marvelous mind that I had never quite seen the like of, before or since, understanding everything I said implicitly, even when she knew I was lying.

Cosima, in her bed, her tender touch and gentle eyes, the desire deferred to accommodate me, my nerves at our first time, her moans when I expressed my pleasure.

Cosima, in the moonlight, breaths soft and barely rattling, as I traced her silhouette with my fingers. My vow to find a way to cure her, to  _let her live_.

Cosima, in the lab, seductive, yelling, collapsing, blood on her lips. Curling in that hospital bed and hearing me out, forgiving me when I could not forgive myself.

Cosima, crying, her eyes pleading, her lips trembling as she told me she loved me, while I had to, for everyone's sake, push her away.

Cosima, not knowing how it had killed me, how I twisted in pain having to let go of her, but how I held out the hope that I could fix things, that we would be together again.

Cosima, resolved, disbelieving, leaving. Love turned to sorrow. I so wanted her to be free, to be happy. I'd never let myself believe it would be without me, somewhere else, with someone else.

I had to stop this. I got up.

Once again I stood in the shower, this time sobbing in long, suffocating groans.

I managed to wash myself. I brushed my teeth. I took a bottle of spring water and drank it all down.

I pulled myself up straight, even as the tears continued to leak out of my eyes.

_You are Delphine Cormier,_  I grounded myself.  _You always push forward, and you will this time, too,_ I reassured the part of me that trembled.

I purposefully turned off the lights and laid down. I focused on one sound, The ringing buzz of one little frog in the night, consistent in his call, even as the other animals and insects around him stopped and started, varied their noises.

I fell asleep before I realized it.

I swore I heard a peal of her laughter, close to my ear, in the night.


	5. Chapter 5

Morning felt gentler, this time.  I must have slept through the chorus of howler monkeys, or else they had moved elsewhere.  I had left the shutters of one screened window open, and I could hear the rustle of breeze in the trees, see the roseate glow of sunrise reflected in the clouds again.

I got up, feeling almost a little hungover in my head from crying, but my body felt better rested, looser.  Perhaps the meditation and yoga had helped, after all, or perhaps I was better off for not having spent the day in various lurching and fragile modes of transportation.

I grabbed a thin cotton hoodie and wrapped it around myself, then walked to the door and stepped out onto the porch.

The view really was amazing.  I hadn’t noticed some of the flowers blooming here and there, before, or perhaps they had just blossomed this morning. The clouds were transforming shapes and slowly changing hues from deep oranges to brighter yellows.  The soft hiss of the moving leaves held the undertone of the distant waves lapping the shore, and birds were twittering.  Somewhere not far away I could hear the faint toll and tinkle of a wind chime. I took a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth, and felt, with the relative coolness and drop in humidity, the real cleanness of the air, laundered by all of the plant life.  My chest, so tight the night before, relaxed, taking it in.

And then I turned my head, and she was there.

On the porch of the cabin to my left, maybe five metres from mine, stood Cosima.  She was facing the view of the clouds and ocean, standing straight, hands pressed together as if in prayer, expression calm.  She breathed, then slowly reached above her head, and stretched, arching back, her spine forming an impressive bow.  She paused, then moved forward, and almost disappeared from view over the low porch wall, just the tip of her lovely, rounded rear end above it, my face flushing as I realized I was staring at it, transfixed.  Then, that disappeared, too.  I realized she was doing the salutation to the sun, a series of yoga movements I had seen before.  I knew she would rise back up eventually.

But then, a noise began.  It started out far off, but quickly grew closer.  The rasps and caws of birds, perhaps some kind of parrots.  Then, all at once, a flock of them, scarlet macaws, swept over my head from behind me, wings flashing red, yellow, and vivid blue, just as bright as but deeper than the sky.  They made a great cacophony, and Cosima’s head popped up, then her upper body, as she watched them circle, an exuberant grin lighting up her face.  I was caught in suspension, trying to observe both the magnificent birds and her, as, with what sounded like the hub-bub of a large family reunion, they settled in a stand of trees at the edge of the property, perching like huge flower blossoms in the foliage.  I must have gasped, because Cosima’s head turned, and she saw me.

She took me in, and her eyes met mine.  Despite the noise and movement of the birds, I felt as if everything around us went still and quiet.  I couldn’t read her expression for the longest time.  It just felt like she was seeing me, her eyes penetrating mine with a hundred gentle questions, touching my soul.  She didn’t seem sad, or angry, she seemed calm, and strong, but soft.  And then the corners of her lips began to curve up slightly, and she looked at me in a way I thought I’d never see again: with caring, without resentment or hurt.

I must have looked like I was about to say something, because she drew one index finger to her mouth to quiet me, and then held it up as if telling me to wait.  Quickly, she disappeared into her cabin, and then, just when I was wondering if she had been a hallucination, she reappeared with something in her hands.  She looked at me again, this time with mischief in her grin, and raised her finger again.  She turned toward the stand of trees and gave a quick whistle, and before I knew it, she was throwing something small and round into the air.

I could hear the snap and whoosh of large wings as one of the macaws dropped suddenly from its perch, arced into a fast line parallel to the ground, and then plucked the object from the air, swooping quickly one hundred and eighty degrees and back to the tree.  There, it busied itself by holding the object and pulling at it with its beak.  It’s a nut, I realized, and my eyes returned to Cosima, who was smiling back at me, with just as much excitement in her expression as I must have had wonder in mine.

She whistled again, and threw another nut, this one higher, and another macaw peeled off from the group to take it from the sky lightning-fast.  This one perched briefly on a small tree closer by, and gave her a cocked-headed, sideways look.  A peal of laughter left her, just like the one I had heard or dreamed in the night.  She gave a small wave at the bird, and it flew back to its flock.

She looked at me again, and my heart nearly burst at the genuineness of her smile.  She cocked her own head, now at me, and her eyes seemed to read me again.  Her grin slightly faltered and I didn’t know if she was feeling sad or had somehow touched the sadness in me with her gaze.  Then, she pulled her smile back up, winked at me, and launched the last nut into the air.

It arced high, moving not just outward from the cabin, but toward the eaves of my own, towards me.

The bird who caught it grasped it just a few feet above my head in front of me, and I got to see the quick grasp of its talons on yellow feet, its long tail and wings forming a holy cross in the sky, then braking with a twist of its wings and a curve of its body.  My eyes and head followed it as it looped around in a long bank and alit near its companions, giving what seemed a great squawk of satisfaction, or perhaps possession, or showing off.  I felt light, then, airy, above myself, as if I had become somehow detached from my worries, my painful memories, my daily life.  I looked back at Cosima, and she had moved closer, leaning slightly towards me, her hands gripping the low wall of her porch parallel to me.

 _“Delphine,”_ she said, half low-murmur, half stage whisper, and I think my heart stopped. “It’s good to see you.   _Relax._ ”

I was about to say her name, but the gong rang, sending the macaws into a furious cloud of alarmed indignation above the trees, circling and flying off.  She watched them, then looked at me and pointed to her wrist as if it held a watch, and disappeared into her cabin.

It must have taken me a full ten minutes just to move.  Then I felt stupid, because perhaps I could have met her as she exited out front, maybe even walked with her.  But there I had hung, feeling at once so many things, elation, nervousness, awe, disbelief.  I would have had to pinch myself if the whine of a mosquito hadn’t suddenly collided with my ear and sent me scampering, arms waving, back into my cabin.


	6. Chapter 6

I had hardly been able to eat before morning meditation and yoga. I was fairly sure yoga was meant to be relaxing, centering, perhaps even invigorating. It was not supposed to make you have trembling fingers and visible splotches of nervous sweat on your clothing.

The people around me slowed their wandering and stretching as Cosima walked to the front of the room and scraped the wooden frog.

"Good morning, everyone, namaste. Tonight, as you may know, we'll be having our first fireside share, and you all will have an opportunity to speak, if you wish. So, today, I thought I'd concentrate on making that sharing a little bit easier. We're going to be doing poses to center, to clear the chakras, especially the heart and throat, to expand the breath in our lungs and throats, and to bring blood flow to our mouths, lips and tongue. As before, just follow along with me and Reynaldo, and we can get to raised hands as needed. I really hope you'll let yourselves go and enjoy the exercises today, especially the ones for the breath, which hold a special place in my heart— "

Here, her eyes gave a quick glance at me, a small, reassuring smile.

"—and the ones for centering. For those of you who have trouble with public speaking, the mouth exercises may be beneficial, and for those of you who, like me, can find keeping silent rather difficult—"

There was a soft murmur of chuckling around the room.

"—well, being centered is the way to go."

As before, she rang the resounding chime, and began.

And the strangest thing happened.

Maybe the tranquil air of the retreat was finally seeping into me, maybe I was now more used to being there and cognizant of what to expect, or maybe, most likely, my experience with her that morning had affected me, let me release something. She had shared beauty and wonder with me and it had seemed like old times, like exactly something she would do, if we weren't running against time or trapped by DYAD. More than that, she had reached out to me, she had indicated that, somehow, despite our past and the wounds we'd borne and the long years of no contact, everything would be alright, somehow.

And so, I was able to relax. I breathed as she did, as the rest of the group in the room did, all of us reinforcing the exchange of oxygen with a susurrus of release. I moved as she did, and my limbs fell into place, my joints warmed in the jungle heat, my eyes closing with hers. And when she moved on to feeling and clearing our heart and throat chakras, I envisioned a light warming my chest in response to one I imagined in hers; different, perhaps not as strong, but growing in vibration with hers. I felt the words that had been trapped in my throat, the stilled breaths, like a hard ball, and little by little, felt it cleared, and my respiration become slower, more free. I had stopped questioning, stopped telling myself I hated yoga or this was silly, stopped worrying that Cosima hated me. Instead, I felt I connected with her, somehow, in a way I had deeply missed, and allowed her to guide me into… I wasn't sure. A calmer state, a lighter heart, a surety that my being here, now, was meant to be, not necessarily as a confrontation, a punishment or a reckoning, but as something else, partially a connection and a letting go.

I just wasn't sure how much we could connect, or how much I wanted to let go.


	7. Chapter 7

I went to a workshop on pottery spinning after that, which was actually refreshingly direct for me, in being hands-on and focused. I followed the instructor's guidance and didn't let myself get too rigid, or mad at myself if the clay wasn't forming the shapes I thought I wanted. I actually let myself experiment, even play a little bit. And I realized that as many experiments my life in science contained, there had been almost no playing, no spontaneous, just-for-the-fun-of-it laughter and action, in a long, long time.

I did not see her at lunch. I tried to concentrate on my food. I almost didn't realize I had sat at the same table, with the same people as before. The woman who had been in the funny t shirt smiled at me, and I smiled back. Humans, always searching for order and companionship, protection and structure. It definitely showed the animals we are, the ones we evolved from.

I went on an easy hike, deemed a "walking meditation" through and around parts of the grounds. The guide urged us to be aware of each step, each breath. We would stop and breathe and listen to the sounds of life all around us, the flora and fauna in this protected corner of nature. All in all, it was enjoyable, although at one point I slightly twisted my ankle on a loose rock. Perhaps I had been paying too much attention to my breath, and not enough to my steps. Perhaps I'd do better paying attention to where I was going.

I took a shower and had a light dinner, then joined the group around the large campfire. After a few moments, Margot got up, sounding her little frog.

"Good evening, everyone, and namaste. Tonight is our first group share. I have here a talking stick, which was given to me by a medicine man in the Pacific Northwest of America. When we pass the talking stick, only the person holding it may speak their truth. Please say your name, tell us a little bit about why you're here, and what you have discovered so far. If you do not feel like speaking, pass it on to the next person in the circle."

Slowly the stick went around. Some people were there to relax from stress, some to heal, and some on the recommendation of friends. Several had been there before and knew each other. Many talked about the beauty they had found in the jungle, or the trouble they had been having dealing with traumas from their past. At first I was uncomfortable. After all, I had spent a portion of my life having to keep secrets, and having to be wary of the power of others, the powers of groups.  _Perhaps I should mention that when I get the stick,_  I thought. How I had detached from friends and family. How I had allowed myself to be misguided, thinking good intentions and thorough science were sure to produce morally sound results. How I came to think that the only real way I could protect myself and the ones I loved was to become part of the machine, take power for myself, steel myself against emotions and push through to do what had to be done, even if sometimes it made me sick, made me hate myself and the world, made me feel hopeless, made me feel alone.

How, eventually, I  _had_  been alone. How the one person I loved above all others left me, disgusted by what she saw, hurt and angry. How she left while still hanging in the balance between life and death, and I never knew if she'd survived. How all my power meant nothing without her. How I helped to dismantle the beast whose belly had become my home, and was taken… well, taken by the military, the government. Allowed to live without scandal or punishment beyond being forced to work, to reveal secrets, to stay right where they wanted me, under their thumbs, until they finally had no use for me anymore.

And I had limped out of the wreckage of my life, and settled for something simple. A teaching job, with studies attached, but none nearly so cutting edge. And I made friends, and tried to connect.

But it had never been the same, the same as it was with…

I found myself wiping tears from my cheeks in the dim, flickering light. Of course I couldn't say all that. Of course I couldn't talk of my daily struggle to work for something good in science, without overstepping the bounds I had broken before. Of course I wouldn't mention the people I had half-loved and lost along the way, the evenings that — although I usually kept myself busy, and even went out with friends, even enjoyed it — I sat in the quiet of my apartment and stared at nothing, feeling a heaviness that pinned my body to my seat, my heart a dull, distant thump.

I couldn't say all that. But I could tell them how I had been reluctantly sent here by a friend, how I had endured a trip like I never had before to get here, so sure it was nonsense, and that I'd be miserable all the way. I could tell them how, now, the views, the quiet, the time to stretch my body and for inner reflection, were beginning to wake me up, somehow, to feel hopeful. I could say… I couldn't tell them about her, about Cosima. But I could tell them that maybe there was such a thing as fate, as a guiding hand in existence, and perhaps there were second chances.

The stick continued around, and then it was in Cosima's hands.

She had her glasses on tonight, and they reflected some of the firelight, giving her face an occasional otherworldly appearance, and then revealing her lovely eyes when she turned a bit. She took the stick and balanced it in her hands, contemplating, with a small smile — or was it a smirk? — on her face.

"When I first came here," she began, and her voice pulled me in, "I was very sick. I had been fighting an illness that was very rare, thought to even be incurable. I had been going through cycles of wellness and disease, hope and despair, just… fighting, fighting, fighting to survive. My girlfriend at the time was a holistic healer, and she suggested I come here."

I was biting my lip. The ordeal she had been through gutted me, and just to hear the mention of the woman she'd left with… of Shay.

 _Be calm,_ I told myself.  _This is her story. She is here and well, now, like a miracle before you. And… and "girlfriend_ at the time,"  _she had said._  The small flame of hope in my chest flickered and expanded.  _So, maybe she…_

"The day I came here, there was a major storm," she told the gathering. "Two of my flights were grounded for hours. A bridge washed out. The jeep I was in got stuck three times, although, thanks to my guides, José and Georgie, we got through safe."

The participants were hanging on her words now, and so was I.

"There was thunder, and lightning, and the captain of the boat decided, with the winds and waves, it wasn't safe to go. I was sick, I was soaked, I was coughing. Part of me hoped they could take us back somewhere less dangerous, more comfortable. Part of me was ready to just give up and lie down in the mud right then."

The story of her trip was so like my own, only worse. My heart ached for her past self's suffering.

"Then, there was a brief let up in the storm. I didn't trust it, and the captain seemed uncertain, said it was up to me, he believed he could get us there although I might get colder, and seasick. Then my girlfriend said 'hey, we've gotten this far. We can have a little faith, or we can hope it gets better tomorrow. What do you want to do?' And I thought, that's the thing. I don't know how many tomorrows I'll get."

Several people besides me now were openly crying. Even the frogs and insects seemed to have dulled their noise.

"So we got on the boat. And the storm picked up. And I got really, really wet and really,  _really_ seasick." She smiled as she said it, as if it were a fond memory, or that, with distance and time, it had become nothing, or something beyond a mere trip. Perhaps it had become a journey that somehow summed up her purpose, her lessons learned.

"Then when we got to the dock and landed, there was Margot!" She smiled at the older woman, who smiled just as fondly right back. "And she and the captain and my girlfriend helped push me, crying, coughing,  _stinky_  in the pouring rain, to climb up that path up the hill, totally a river, by then, one step at a painful, very cranky time."

She had them chuckling again. She always was such a good storyteller, so expressive, so charming.

"And then I got to the second landing and I thought, 'huhn,'" she paused for effect, "'maybe I need to stop looking up this hill so it looks like a mountain, letting the rain pour into my eyes. Maybe I need to stop thinking of the uncomfortable,  _super scary_ trip I had taken — that's what I thought of it, then — and start thinking about how we had landed safely, and we were here, now, in a country and a place I'd never been, and every moment that I was here, was a new experience I was having, a, a new part of my  _life.'_ And it was new, and that was amazing, because it was a moment there never was before and I was actually alive in it, and also that that moment, that precise time, as much as time seems eternal, and we're all made up of atoms from the big bang, would never, ever happen again."

There was silence around the campfire for a moment. The fire crackled.

"So I straightened up, and I took one step, and that was a new moment, my new  _now_ , my new, unique,  _being alive_ , and then another step, and it was also a whole new creation, and then I just kept going, step by step, until we reached the top, and here we were."

She smiled around the circle, her depth riveting, her warmth infectious. The flames lit her glasses as her gaze passed me, and I couldn't see if she looked at me, then.

"And then," she grinned, "I fell down and cried a lot and had to drink, like, two pitchers of hot coffee."

Everyone laughed. My heart was beating against my chest, all for her, leaning toward every word and breath.

"The point is," she said, after a chuckle, "I made it. I changed my attitude, and I took each experience bit by bit, and I stopped trying to connect it to the past, or project it into the future. I stopped trying to control it, to do anything besides be in it, and move, one step at a time." She looked at the rapt faces again.

"Of course, that didn't last. I got angsty again," she admitted, to laughter. "But the folks here helped me realize that that focus, that, being where you were while you were there, was always there, always available. And the hot humid air, and the meditation, and the yoga, and the Reiki, and the herbal medicines and pure diet, all helped me. Maybe they didn't do everything, they weren't the only part of the cure, but they were part of it, just as the people I met and the friendships I made were a part of it. And I got better."

Sighs, and  _ahhs_  sounded from the people. My friend the frog took up his buzzing call for the night.

"And so I changed my life.  _This place_  changed my life. That's when I began studying yoga, and diet, and meditation, so I could share them with others. And maybe somebody else who just wanted to give up and lie in the mud, could find the strength within themselves to climb that hill, one step at a time."

There was scattered, spontaneous applause, even though she waved it away.

"I still learn and experience something different, something  _new_  every time I come here. And this time… I'm so happy to be here with all of you. And I think maybe, maybe I'm here to finally move on, and put some things in my life that have been stuck inside me for a long time to rest. To really practice forgiveness, and with that, to let go. And I think it's awesome that we all get to be part of each other's new moments and discoveries while we're here."

The crowd was smitten. There was a long period of talking and patting her on the back around the circle. But I had caught and held my breath.

Because she had talked about  _letting go, putting things to rest_.

And I couldn't help but think she meant me, our relationship, our past.

While the next woman in the circle stammered over not knowing how to follow that, I quietly excused myself and slipped away from the circle.

This time, when I cried in my cabin, my lungs pushed my breaths out in harsh, forceful hisses and moans. It was as if they were trying to eliminate the oxygen from my body themselves. And part of me wished they could. Part of me wished they would push out the air, and the heavy hum in the back of my head would go quiet, and my eyes would go dark, and I would never breathe again.


	8. Chapter 8

I slept through the monkeys. I slept through the frogs, and the birds, and the stupid breakfast gong.

I woke up aching, dehydrated, in a darkened room, all the shutters closed, keeping the sun out.

For a few moments I stared up at the ceiling, thinking nothing much more eloquent than  _ugh._

Then I decided to have a talk with myself.

_Quoi de neuf, Delphine? This is the second time you've run back to your room and cried like an idiot. Last night you were wishing your life would stop. Is it just seeing Cosima? After all these years you've lived without her, does it really change things so much to see her again?_

_Yes, and no,_ I answered myself crankily.  _Of course seeing her has me overwhelmed. You see somebody you missed, you cared about all that time, and it's like a shock to the system, opening doors you thought you had locked securely. Mais..._

I shrugged at my own inner voice.

_Maybe it's something else. Maybe I'm still tired from the trip, or all this change in air and diet and schedule is doing something to me. Is it possible I'm going through early menopause?_

I chuckled at myself. It's early for that, still, and I was joking to myself that I was getting both old and hormonal. I counted backwards a bit, and confirmed that, no, I wasn't even due to ovulate, yet. As a doctor and a scientist, I've always found it important to keep an updated calendar about things like that.

_Let's be serious about this. All those changes in routine could affect your equilibrium, but let's be honest. Is it that you still love her? Is it that you're reliving pain from the past, or do you really think you have a connection, even if you've met by accident, years later, having lived your own lives but never having a chance for resolution? Yes, you loved each other, but you also were a dangerous... or, at least, as they'd say here, an unhealthy match that could never really agree on anything, lied to and hurt each other again and again. Are you tied to some youthful idea of love? Some kind of passion that is always combustive? Because you, and she, it seems, have settled in your lives a great deal since then, and surely it's a relief not to be in conflict?_

_Well, it's true you've never had a passion quite like that since then,_  I acknowledged _, and it's hard not to long for that. But it's not like you're old yet! And anyone should be able to have passion, regardless of their age. If you're not open to it, it's because you're tired, weary of the rut you've placed yourself in, not because there is some mythological "one," some... soul mate or love of your life! It's because you've given up on that in people, in yourself, you haven't really given anyone the chance..._

I stopped. I sat up, and reached for a bottle of water and some painkillers in my nightstand for my head. I took two and drank thirstily, thoughtfully.

_You don't believe that,_ I answered myself.  _Maybe you are a romantic inside, maybe you can't help but be conditioned by all the love songs and the stories and the cinema, but there was also something special about Cosima. She's unique, brilliant, and you resonate with her like one bell striking the other._

I sighed and stretched my back and neck. I heard a few voices outside, snatches of English. It must be a shift or break time in the schedule.

_Let's be truthful,_ I bargained with my own subconscious.  _You never fully stopped loving her, and no, there was no resolution, because she disappeared, and then you thought she might be dead! It was highly likely she was... Topside couldn't find her, with all the power they had, and even the government and military claimed they couldn't, whether or not you believed them. In your mind, she had to be dead, or truly fallen out of love with you if she didn't reach out to you after the fall of Topside, or, or after you left the government, and you contacted Sarah, desperate to try, even if you knew you'd be lucky if she didn't beat you senseless for your past transgressions. So, you told yourself either she was dead, or she wanted nothing more to do with you, and either way you had to move on, leave it behind you, because it was what you deserved..._

I sat up straighter, one hand clutching my belly, feeling the roiling of emotions inside.

_You thought whatever happened was your punishment, because you had lied, you had pushed her away to save them and you had failed, not in helping the others, eventually, but in saving her, in being with her through all her suffering, in making her feel loved, loved with all your heart, loved so much that you did whatever you thought was necessary to protect her and her sisters..._

I closed my eyes. My stomach flipped like I might be sick.

_Ultimately, you lost her, but you lost her out of love, and of wanting to fix the mistakes you had made, and do the right, moral thing for the people you had ignored or let suffer in your ignorance. You lost her out of hard choices, some perhaps wrong, but also out of circumstance. Out of all the craziness that was Leda and Castor and Topside and the officials... things that neither of you, however strong and thoughtful and careful and strategic you tried to be, could possibly control or foresee, handle without pain, without consequences neither one of you desired. You lost her out of your actions and decisions, but also out of things so far beyond you, so powerful and put into place long before you were even born..._

_But... things that are lost... they can be found._

I was blinking back tears again, looking up at the ceiling of my cabin, up like I could see through the roof to the sky, like I could send some prayer to a deity I'd long been estranged from.

_She talked about letting go last night, and you latched onto that, but she also talked about forgiveness. She looked you in the eye that morning and said it was good to see you. Maybe you can believe that. You can't change the past, but you can be forgiven. You can release it, and it's only fair to give her... to give_ both of you  _the opportunity to do that. And even if her forgiveness, her resolution also means really saying goodbye, completely letting go of you, she deserves you being fully present to do that. There's, there's some chance that that could also allow you to move forward..._

I sighed, closing my eyes tightly for a moment, then opening them, looking straight at the door before me.

_You can't predict. You never know what's going to happen. It's like she said, one step_

_at a time, each one a new moment. Even as a scientist, you know this. Even when you're ninety-nine percent sure of what the results of an experiment will be, you have to proceed as if you didn't, make strict notes and observations, follow research protocol. Because there's always that small possibility that something surprising will happen._

I shook my head lightly, and something between a hopeful smile and a determined line formed on my lips.

_An anomaly, like Kira, like winding up in a remote retreat at the same time, in cabins right next to each other. Like falling in love._

_Enough giving up and lying in the mud, Delphine._

I sprung up and headed toward the shower. It was time to take my own steps forward, to act out of love, not out of fear. She... we  _both_  deserved that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and commenting, friends. I’ve not been feeling my best recently and you guys perk me up. :) XO

I was just about to head out of the cabin  when I noticed something.  There was a small piece of paper shoved halfway between two of the slats on my shuttered door.  I grabbed it and opened it.  Finding it was a note, I began to read.

_Hey, Delphine,_

_I don't want to invade your privacy or anything, but you took off kind of suddenly last night and you haven't been around today.  I just wanted to check and make sure you're alright.  No pressure, you know.  I just know all this can really be a trip, and then, you know, you run into me here._

_So, I hope you're okay.  If you want to say hi, I'm usually in my cabin between 1 and 3 or 4:00, unless something special is going on.  Oh, and if you've got the local version of Montezuma's revenge, I always bring some antibiotics, coconut water and ginger tea, just in case._

_Anyway, take care, Delphine.  Get all the rest or alone time or whatever you need.  I bet you never thought I'd be signing off with_

_Namaste,_

_Cosima_

I know I let out a couple "huhs" of surprise at reading the note.  Here I had been, agonizing over trying to speak with her, and she had made the move of checking up on me.  A hesitant smile played around my lips as I reread it.  I could tell she was being kind but careful, and perhaps she felt a little awkward or nervous, herself.  I checked the time. 2:30.

I took a deep breath, making resolved fists with my hands, and went out the door.

Just a few steps, and I was at her cabin.   _Oh, God._  I hadn't even put on my shoes.  My knuckles hovered close to the door.   _Just... just do it._  They rapped against the wooden shutters.

"Just a minute!"  Her voice.  Suspense.  The door opening.  And then suddenly we were face to face, less than a metre apart.  It was as if I could feel her body heat against me, her face, that I had imagined and dreamed of all those times, so near and realer than real.  Different, and yet the same.  

"Oh." She paused for a second, then leaned against the door frame.  "Hey.  Delphine.  I guess you got my note. Um, how are you doing?"

I know I ducked my head a bit, and my hand went to my hair.  I hoped I didn't look like I was being coquettish.

"Em, well..." I couldn't help the little smile I gave, the small shrug of my shoulders.  "It's been a trip."

A slow grin came to her face, and she let out a chuckle.  I suddenly realized something.

"Merde! Are we supposed to be silent now?  Is it wrong that I'm speaking?"

She raised her eyebrows exaggeratedly, the movement drawing her eyeglasses down on her nose slightly so she was just looking over the top of the frames.  She bent forward at the waist, sticking her head out the door frame, and made a show of turning both ways to look down the row of cabins.  

"Well," she straightened up, teasing in her tone, "I won't tell anyone if you won't." She stepped back slightly, nodding her head back towards the room.  "Come on in."

I was through the door almost before I knew it, passing her, so close, then stopped on a dime once I was in, dumbfounded that I was there, in her room with her.  She slid the door shut and took a few more steps into the room.  It was much like mine, but messier, of course, in that inimitable Cosima way.  Books were open, scattered about, here and there.  There were a few more furnishings, a couple vases with flowers, some candles in coloured glass holders, a poster illustrating the chakras tacked over the bed, throw pillows in rich colours, several bags, and what looked like a folded massage table with a handle.

"I, euh, I like what you've done with the place."   _Oh, so smooth._

Her grin flared and twisted with amusement.

"Huh, yeah.  Well, I come here a lot.  I like to make the space, like, my home away from home."  She moved further into the room.  "Can I get you anything?  Water, tea?  Um, evil modern medicine in our natural retreat space?"

My hands were clasped before me.

"Um, I don't know... some of that coconut water, perhaps?  I am a bit thirsty."

_This is normal, so normal.  Act normal.  How is this so normal?_

"Okay, sure thing." She wandered over to the small desk and reached down beside it, opening an ice chest.  She pulled out a bottle and grabbed a glass from beside it, then poured me a drink.  The juice was faintly pink and the glass was cold as she handed it to me.  I took care not to touch her fingers.  I took a sip.

"Mmm, quite good."

Did her eyes flicker to my mouth as I licked a drop off my lip, then?  I could have sworn they did. She stepped back to the ice chest, pouring herself a glass.

"Yeah, that's the good stuff.  Cold pressure.  I, uh, I'll drink the fresh stuff from the coconuts here, but it's always good to know you've got some that's bug-free on hand, right?  Plus, you know," she waved a hand in a circle to indicate the room, "Not a lot of room to stack piles of coconuts."

I nodded with a little chuff of laughter.  She looked around and gestured to a small table with two chairs by one window.

"You want to sit?"

I nodded and we took the chairs facing each other.  Cosima leaned back and casually propped her bare foot on the windowsill.

"So, Delphine," she began, taking a breath.  "How are you?"

I searched my mind for how to begin.  I opened my mouth and closed it.  I was at a loss.  Out of nowhere, a giggle erupted out of me.

And she joined in.  We both laughed, wordlessly acknowledging the awkwardness of the situation.  I took a sip of my drink.

"I'm... physically, I'm well.  No Montezuma's revenge for me."  Her eyes crinkled at my joke.  "But, I have to admit I'm out of my element, here.  This trip was gifted to me, and not how I'd normally vacation.  I don't generally meditate or do yoga or... many of the things they do here.  Some of it has been very interesting... but... I have to say I have been a little overwhelmed with seeing you."

I looked at her seriously, inquiringly. She met my eyes and nodded.

"Yeah, it was quite a surprise," she allowed, then stared back at me quietly, her face less than revealing.

"Cosima," I found myself leaning forward, forearms on the table. "You... you really disappeared.  I... I didn't know if you were alive or dead."  

She blew out a breath.

"Yeah, well, I kinda had to, Delphine. Um..." her eyes moved around, seeming to search the room, the air.  "Before we go any further, I have to ask you, and I hope you'll tell me the truth. Delphine... are you affiliated with any sort of government or private organization that wants information on me?  Are you reporting to someone on my status or anything with Leda and my sisters?"

I took a breath.  It broke my heart a little to hear the question, to see her gaze become probing, evaluating, but I knew it was a fair one.

"No," I answered softly.  "I'm a professor.  I teach and do research at a university.  It's..." I sighed, "things are simpler now."

She was looking at me as if she was trying to see into my mind, my soul.  I noticed that her glasses were different, thinner, with a hint of dark purple and thicker lenses that slightly distorted her serious, searching eyes.  Those eyes, they drew me in, like entering a long pathway into a deep forest, like photographs of distant galaxies, beautiful and nearly infinite, open, expansive and pulling me closer into her orbit.  It was a struggle to meet her gaze, not because I didn't want to, not because of guilt or because I thought she might see some flaw or untruth in me, but because to look into her eyes made my heart cry out.  It made me want to lean forward and hold her, press my lips to hers.  And that would be inappropriate, and perhaps something of a violation… _and probably a really bad idea, right now,_ I thought.

She took a moment, and then she blinked, nodded.

“Okay,” she finally said, though she sounded slightly reluctant.  She shifted, tucking her legs under the table.  “Well, you know I disappeared on purpose.  I needed to get out of that situation, the constant stress and danger.  It came to a point where I had what I needed to conduct my own experiments, and—”

“Yes, it wasn’t easy covering up just how many supplies you… liberated from DYAD,” I told her, with a small smile.

“Yeah,” she returned my smile with a brief one of her own.  “Anyway, I got to the point where it became very clear that I would probably die… and if I was going to go out, I didn’t want it to be in a lab, controlled by some conniving corporation, my last bit of usefulness in this world being just another body to autopsy to further their knowledge of cloning.”

I bit my lip, struck by her recalled torment and revulsion.  I kept silent, encouraging her with my gaze.

“So, well, you know about Shay.  I mean, you must have picked her to be my monitor.”

“Yes,” I answered softly.  “I thought she might… give you comfort.  Be someone… very different from the world of science and tension you were in.”

“Right.  And different from you, for whatever reason.”

She got me there.  I had to look down.  If she had to be monitored, I wanted it to be somebody who would treat her gently, nurture her, help her quiet her mind.  Maybe there was a part of me that thought if I sent her someone so different from me, she could benefit from what I could not give her then, but also, perhaps, there was an almost subconscious supposition that she could not bond with, or fall for, someone who did not have the lifelong obsession for science we shared.  If I thought on this a moment longer, I felt I could touch the pain I had walled off since finding out that they had become romantically involved back then.  I had put it away, closed and in a dark, dusty corner, but something told me that to get too close to it would reveal just how fresh and raw it had remained.

She watched me for a moment, then continued.

“So, in keeping with what seems to have been the fatal flaw of the monitor program, Shay not only turned out to be working undercover for that other group, but came down on my side of things, and agreed to help me out of there.  She knew places we could go, people who lived off the grid.  She took the risk that y… that DYAD, or the others, would find us, or that they’d release the dirt on her you had.  Anyway, I guess it worked.  I had to give up pretty much everything to get my freedom, and we were always living under the fear of being discovered, until DYAD was gone and the lawsuits were settled.  But, it meant so much to me not to be trapped anymore.  And, as you heard at the fireside, between my research and the changes in my way of life, I survived.”

 

My hand reached out to touch hers, but I stopped it before it did.  I placed it on the table, several inches from her fingers.

 

“And I am so grateful for that,” I told her.  “I know… maybe it was none of my business, anymore, but, I so wanted you to be alive, to even be happy.”

Our eyes met again, and a rueful smile passed over her face.

“I know that,” she said.  “And I wish I could have told you.  But I couldn’t risk the contact.  I couldn’t be drawn in, again.”

So she had thought of me.  She had felt talking with me might lure her back into the insanity that Leda and Castor had devolved into.  In a way, it reassured me.  It meant she still felt drawn to me, just as I had had to fight my pull towards her with all my strength to break things off when I became the head of the project.

We were both silent for a moment.  We each took sips of our drinks almost simultaneously.

“But, Delphine, I want you to know something,” she uttered.  “I never stopped caring about you.  I was hurt and I was mad, and I did what I had to do, but I always hoped you’d be able to get out of all that and, I don’t know, be able to live honestly and freely, you know?  I know from… through the grapevine that you ended up working with the military for a while.  You probably didn’t have much choice.”

I slowly shook my head.

“I didn’t.”

“Well…” this time she reached forward, and laid her hand over mine gently, but firmly, reassuringly.  “I’m glad you got out of that.  I hope you’re happy in what you’re doing now, being a professor.  I have no doubt that you are hella good at what you do.”

I felt a flush of heat that spread from where her hand touched mine to the rest of my body, making my brain feel fuzzy, intoxicated.  I swallowed it down and gave a small huff of a chuckle.  She was still using some of her old vernacular.  It made me see the younger woman within her.  I took in a shaky breath, fighting back tears.

“I just want you to know,” she told me, “that I forgive you.  We were both young and in a ridiculously complicated situation.  I’ve worked on my feelings a lot since then, and… I hope you can forgive me, too.”

The tears sprang from my eyes, releasing themselves in silent tracks down my cheeks.  I took a trembling inhale.

“Cosima, thank you.  And as far as I was, as I am concerned, there was never any need for you to be forgiven.”

We sat there for a long moment, looking at one another, her hand still over mine, my thumb shifted to wrap around her fingers.  My tears still flowed, and she still looked at me deeply with a kind of acceptance I’d never imagined I’d see in her eyes.

And I leaned forward and kissed her.

And she pulled back, away from my lips, shaking her head softly.

“Hey,” she said.  “Hey, I’m not here for that, right now.  It’s been a long time.  We’ve both been through a lot of changes…” She cleared her throat.  “I care for you, Delphine, but I can’t feel comfortable with that, um, as it is.”

 _Stupide,_ I told myself, swallowing the sting I felt from that, and nodded, shifting back in my seat.

“Alright,” I murmured.  “I’m sorry.  I, em, I guess I was very emotional.  I still care for you, eh, obviously.  I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

She looked at me, and her gaze was so kind, yet at the same time so much more distant than I wanted at that moment, that I to squeeze my eyes shut and clear my head.  When I opened them again, her head was cocked.

“Listen, I know this has been a pretty deep conversation, but I’ve got a class to teach in fifteen minutes.”  She rose, and I automatically stood with her, stepping toward the front door.

“Yes, I understand.  I won’t keep you,” I said.  You couldn’t keep her.  That’s the problem, a cruel voice inside my head informed me.

She walked to the door with me, and as I was heading out she said my name softly.

“Delphine.  I’m glad you stopped by.  Thank you for talking with me.  It means a lot to… to share this forgiveness with you,” she stated, big eyes soulful and full of intent.

“Yes, Cosima,”  I answered.  “Me too.”

The short walk back to my cabin was a blur.  I entered and slowly sank into a chair, hand over my mouth.

I’m not sure how long I sat there, but it was only near the end of dinner that I exited my cabin, running to grab a bag of leftovers from the buffet to eat in silence, looking out my window into an expanse of darkness, punctuated by so many stars I could let my mind go, projected in a quiet haze into the sky.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a week since I've had a chance to post. Have three chapters. :)

The next morning, I was resolved to get back to what my schedule was supposed to be at the retreat, resolved to keep seeing Cosima while I was there. She truly had changed. Certainly, she had forgiven me for transgressions in the past, when we were together all those years ago, but it was usually after some angry outburst, a rush of tears, and felt precarious. What she had shared with me in her cabin was real absolution, and I had felt a burden I had carried all those years lighten. To avoid her would be wrongheaded, even if seeing her was, in some ways, hard. It also looked as though we had a real chance to heal some wounds, and... and what? Perhaps build a friendship? Maybe someday more?

But I had to stop myself from taking that mental path. While I was here, I was supposed to remain in the now, not push forward or predict. Yet, that was so against my nature. I had become a scientist to explore, to advance, even to conquer, to help humankind and push forward. I wanted not just to cure diseases, but to better the path of evolution, itself. In the intervening years I came to regret my blindered idealism, my hubris, but after limiting my work in research for some time I had finally allowed myself to get involved in it again. If I was careful about the studies I chose to do, if I kept the scope of my goals shorter term, more realistic, and if I kept in mind the importance of not letting the experimentation spill outside the lab, flow into morally questionable areas, rush through my life in a flood of desire to learn, to know, to affect, then I could be productive without crossing the line into egoism, or egotism, the belief that because I intended to do things for the best meant that I knew what was for the best.

I had chosen to filter out the concept of consent by not using whole human subjects, by sticking to petri dishes and mice, incremental achievements in fighting diseases, rather than sweeping future goals of bettering life for the human race. But the truth was, there were no petri dishes here. I had to confront it now. Consent didn't only mean the freedom to make a choice to pursue your own evolution, abilities and health, and wanting other people to be able to achieve that, too. Consent meant accepting completely different opinions, goals... different means in the service to either the same or different ends. Consent meant believing what another person did was valid and their choice, even if it wasn't what I thought would be best for them, even if I had the best intentions in the world. Consent meant having to find a way to either believe that two opposing viewpoints could be both be right at the same time, or at least accepting that, regardless of what I thought was right, even if I thought it was a life or death decision, it was not my choice to make. I had to be able to love and accept that love from others was valid, even if it couldn't be expressed as I wanted, even if it meant losing them.

I had lost Cosima while trying to do the right thing, to save her, to protect her sisters. That consequence had been devastating, but it also had been her choice to leave, whether I pushed her or not. I couldn't know how things would have gone if either of us had done anything differently, and I couldn't predict exactly what would happen depending on how I interacted with her at this time, in this place. I could only try to follow my heart and allow her to follow hers.

Right then, my heart wanted to connect with her, to be near her, but I had to do that without thinking too far back or forward. If I wanted to rebuild our connection, I had to stop using both my memories and my fantasies as context. Have you ever tried to do that? As much of a revelation they say it can be, how, in a meditative, spiritual way we can release our suffering and desires by acknowledging both their existence and their impermanence, it can be really fucking hard. And it's not something you can accomplish by thinking through scientifically. In a way, proper scientific practice requires that we experiment to find results, even if they are unexpected. We are supposed to have theories and previous experiments to base our work on, yet also to be open to the idea that the results of our experiments might prove different, indicate the previous ones were wrong. The truth is, rarely are we able to hold both these viewpoints in our minds at once.

 _You know the sound of two hands clapping,_ the famous koan went,  _what is the sound of one hand?_  I could spend lifetimes pondering that question. I could try to break it down cleverly, semantically, and dismiss it as nonsense. I could try to experiment on it forever: is it the sound of one hand hitting something else? Is the sound that of one hand swishing through the air towards nothing, or the minute noises of skin, bones and muscle involuntarily moving, the pulse of blood through the palm and fingers? Is it the sound of clapping my mind brings up when I think of it, is it silence, or could it be any sound I think of in that moment,because perception is our distorted window to reality? If I were to live in the now, it could be both anything and nothing.

I think that place and those people were really rubbing off on me. It was maddening, ridiculous, and always right on the edge of a revelation.

But I didn't want to go mad. I didn't want to give up. I wanted to explore how I could interact with, how I could reach Cosima. And I wanted to experiment to see what her reactions would be. After all that time, I still was certain that I wanted to be close to her. It might not be what she wanted, but I couldn't even make the choice to respect her decision if I wasn't really sure, explicitly, what it was.

So I was quite thrown off by the announcement at the beginning of the morning class.

"Good morning, and namaste, friends," Reynaldo said, after sounding the wooden frog instrument. "Cosima won't be able to be here today, so I'll be leading the session. I would like to begin…"

My hand shot up in the air. He noticed it and nodded at me, gesturing to the frog.

"Yes, Delphine, is it? I recognize you, feel free to speak."

"Is Cosima alright," I blurted. This seemed to be my default concern so often.

"Yes, she's fine. She's just participating in something else this morning—"

"What is it she's participating in? I mean, um," I glanced around at the others, "we all expected her to be here, you know?"

"Actually, there was a notice at the front desk and an announcement at dinner last night," he answered. "I'm sorry if you missed them, but she'll be back tomorrow, so why don't we all—"

"Where is she," I insisted. "I… I really need to speak to her this morning, and I was hoping to do so after class."

I could see the young man's calm demeanour was being challenged by the lifting of his eyebrows and a few, rapid blinks. For a moment, I pictured him throwing the wooden frog at me.

"She's going on the national park guided hike," he finally told me. "It's on the sched—"

"Where is it," I interrupted, "Can I still go? I missed that it was happening."

"They're meeting at the front desk in fifteen minutes, but there's a list of things you're supposed to—"

"Thank you," I tossed over my shoulder, already heading out the door, my yoga mat crumpled under my arm.

I ran down the path, pausing for a moment near the ocean view cabins to whip my schedule out of my bag and peer at it.

"GUIDED HIKE IN THE NATIONAL PARK," it read. "Explore the rainforest with a local, expert nature interpreter. Witness the beauty of the jungle around you and learn about plant life and animals…"  _Yes, yes, yes,_  I thought, skipping down. "... non-toxic insect repellent, hiking boots and a swimsuit if desired for the waterfalls, and of course your camera…"

 _Fine_ , I thought, and raced to my cabin. I threw my mat down and had stripped off my athletic clothes in seconds flat, but I had to struggle a bit with my bathing suit, as I chose my bikini over my one-piece, and consequently had to do some tying of strings.

"Okay, okay," I mumbled, "tu dois partir." I threw on a pair of shorts and a tank top, and yanked on some socks and my boots. I didn't even bother to tie them as I sprinted out the door, grabbing my bag on the way.

"... so, if everyone will walk down to the boat," a young man in what seemed to be a ranger outfit was saying, as I skidded up to the back of the group. He paused and several people turned to look at me, including Cosima, who was not far in front of me. I couldn't speak from panting and I didn't even know if I needed a frog noisemaker, so I just waved, half bent over and sweating.

"Ah, okay, miss. We're just about to go, so, just ask me on the way there if you have any questions."

I gave a quick nod, wiping my brow. As the group started moving off toward the dock area. Cosima stayed put, turned at the waist toward me and eyebrows flying up so high they were nearly lost in the band of the straw hat she had on.

"Excited about the trip," she asked, after a moment, her mouth twisting slightly in surprise and curiosity.

I stood up straight, pulling my bag up firmly over my shoulder. I couldn't help it, a smile spread across my face as I nodded.

"Yes," I acknowledged, "most definitely."


	11. Chapter 11

The rules of silence were dropped for this trip, but still the people on the boat were mostly mum. It was early, yet, and we slipped away from the dock into a dark slate sea and the kind of high-clouded sky that was mostly white, with small daubs of grey and blue.

I had sat beside Cosima, but we didn't speak, and she seemed to be content taking in the view. I, too, was taking in the vista, but also her beauty when her eyes weren't facing my way.  _I'm absolutely obsessed,_  I thought.  _But then again, haven't I always been, from the moment that I met her?_

A murmur of excitement came from one side of the boat, and the captain slowed the engine and took a turn to starboard. The guide was pointing a short way off.

"So, if you look over there, we've just spotted some whales. Could be two, could be more. We're gonna take you a little closer, but don't worry, we won't bother them. If they want to come closer than we pull in, that's up to them."

Cosima's face lit up in an excited smile. She slid closer to that side of the boat and I followed her. For a moment I saw nothing, then a dark curve in the water. Suddenly, a blowhole appeared, spraying water into the air, then rolled back under. A second later, a smaller one emerged and emitted its own blast of mist.

"Yeah, two of them, humpbacks," the guide confirmed. "Looks like a mama and her baby. They're often easier to spot because they're closer to the coast and the surface."

A moment, and then a giant fluke appeared and waved in the air. The group erupted into a chorus of ohs and oohs. I let out a gasp, myself, and Cosima turned to me.

"Isn't this amazing? They're so awesome, so beautiful…"

I smiled and nodded enthusiastically.  _So are you,_ I thought, and I didn't know which delighted me more.

A surge of exclamations drew our attention back to the side of the boat.

"Here comes the little one, checking us out," the guide said, and suddenly I saw the shape of the head, much closer now, and just under the surface. The young whale moved alongside our vessel, rolling, and then, most remarkably, its eye appeared. It seemed to be looking right at us, a clear, curious gaze through a large pupil, still relatively small compared to the expanse of grey, striated flesh around it.  _It sees us,_  my mind dumbly marvelled, my scientific interest overridden by the sheer enormity of the moment, what seemed to be an understanding, a connection between us humans and a truly intelligent animal. I felt a bit shaken, as if realizing clearly that I, that all people, were much less alone in this world than we thought, that as we went about our daily lives and petty problems in our species-egocentric cities, there were other spirits travelling around us, perceiving things totally differently, but encountering and acknowledging us, as well. I felt tears springing to my eyes. I had taken one look into that animal's eye, and I swear I felt a soul gazing back at me.

"Hey," I heard beside me, and I turned to see Cosima looking at me with a gentle smile and moist eyes, herself. She reached out and clasped my arm briefly with one hand. "I know," she said.

The mother passed close to us, then disappeared.

"She's under us," the guide said, and everyone held their breath. I could just see a huge, dark mass moving an indefinite distance below our boat, the chop and cloud-dulled opacity of the water making it hazy, hard to follow, as if it might be a hallucination.

There was a moment of silence, and then, farther away than I expected on the port side, the mother's blow hole surged up and exhaled again.

"Ahh," I felt the sound emerge from me, born in wonder, my hand pressed to my chest. Cosima turned again, and this time her gaze met mine and lingered, our connection feeling so much more than visual. It was, in that moment, just as powerful as meeting the whale's eye had been.

"... from Antarctica," the guide was saying. "In this area we get migrations from both hemispheres passing through, so it's extremely important that we conserve the cleanliness and health of our waters…"

We didn't stop looking at each other until the boat gave a lurch, the engine churning again at a higher speed, the prow pointed back toward our original destination. We both looked away, and I was fairly sure her face bore a similar soft, private smile as mine.

It took about a half an hour for the other dock to come into view. We all piled out of the boat, stretching and feeling the firm pull of gravity on our bodies on the land. The guide told us he was going to file some paperwork in the office, and we should take the opportunity to drink water, use the bathroom, or re-apply sunscreen or bug repellent. I looked down at my hastily packed and nearly empty bag with a sigh.

"Don't tell me you didn't bring any sunblock or bug spray," Cosima said lowly, close to my side, and I turned to see an amused smirk twisting at her lips.

"Ah, non," I replied, with a sheepish shrug, "I guess I found out about the trip at the last minute."

She cocked her head and squinted at me in the bright glare of the morning. She slowly shook her head.

"Delphine, you know how pale you are. One of these days you're gonna get sun poisoning." She let out a half chuckle-half sigh, and rooted in her bag. "Here," she held out a plastic spray bottle. "It's combination sunblock and repellent, all natural, non-toxic. Apply  _liberally,_  Delphine." She tipped me a wink and I ducked my head to hide the blush that warmed my cheeks in response, pretending to be focused on spraying the liquid on my legs. How was she still so disarming? Was that just how she was, or was it because I hadn't been near her in so long? She turned me into someone more youthful, less hardened and injured by the battles of my unusual past. I looked up at her, and she was still quietly smiling, now watching a couple of brown pelicans fighting against the wind current toward the shore. I cleared my throat.

"Em, help me reach my back," I asked, and turned, lifting my tank top. I couldn't see her face, but there was a beat before she took the bottle from me. She sprayed my skin and then ran her hands over it quickly, but efficiently. I imagined there was a slight slowing of her strokes as her fingers grazed the nape of my neck, as they ran over the curve from my waist to my hip, but I couldn't be sure. I could be sure of the effect having her touch me this way had on me, however. My breath became shallower and my eyes slipped closed at the warmth of her palms, little jolts and sparkles of electricity travelling my spine. She pulled her hands away and I heard the click of the cap on the bottle.

"There you go," she said, tone neutral, as I turned around. She was peering into her bag as she put the bottle in it, taking what seemed to be unusually attentive care with where she placed it.

"Thank you," I breathed, and her head came up again. For a moment, she said nothing. Then, "here," as she removed the straw hat from her head and placed it on mine. "You need this more than I do." She took a look at me in it and her lips curled upwards.

"You're just a French country girl, now," she said, and I giggled, trying to look indignant.

"And you are still a brat," I countered. She shook her head.

"Oh, Delphine," she looked away for a moment then back again. "Well, I'm glad I could help you out. The last thing you need for inner peace is to get a bot fly infestation. It's all fun and games until I have to slap meat and honey all over you and pull larvae out of your flesh."

Now I was smirking.

"That is a disturbing visual. Are you sure that's what would be necessary to counter that parasite? Coating me in honey?"

"Ah," she chuckled, "uh-uh…" and took a step away from me.

"I, em, appreciate your consideration and care for my skin, you know," I flirted, because it was clear what I was doing now, and I wanted to get clear on what she was doing, as well. I followed her step for step

"Yeahhh," she breathed out, with one shake of her head, but a grin on her face, trying not to look at me, but letting me pull alongside her as she walked.

We were partway up the path when the guide re-emerged from the offices.

"Okay, everyone, last check-in and then  _vamanos_! Let's see some of this beautiful rainforest!"


	12. Chapter 12

I had idly thought of hiking in the rainforest once I had adjusted to the idea that I was taking the trip, and I had imagined breathing clean air and observing lush flora and a host of busy birds and insects, but our walk was so much more. The guide clearly had the eye of an eagle, I thought, because he could spot an iguana on a tree limb with his naked eye so far off that I had to borrow binoculars, and ask repeatedly for directions, to spy it. He explained various trees and vines, the palms with vicious spikes on their trunks, the twisted roots, the clinging orchids, the leaves that the leaf cutter ants were carrying in a stream of tiny bodies across the path. I stepped closer to see them, and Cosima took my arm.

"Not too close. Just lean over. If they get on you, you'll get some nasty bites."

She was staying by me, looking out for me. I was pulsating with delight. If getting a few wicked bites would pull her closer to assist me, I just might take them.

We saw some sloths in one clearing, and the group stopped to hear the guide's spiel and take pictures. Cosima was poking with the toe of her boot at a rock on the path, facing the other way.

"Don't care to participate? Are sloths too boring," I asked.

"Hm. I've been on this kind of tour a number of times. I totally love it, but there's a butterfly over there I'm trying to get a look at that interests me more than the sloths."

I followed her gaze, seeing nothing, but then a radiant flash of blue appeared as the insect in question spread its wings on its rocky perch. My mouth formed a surprised O.

"Blue morpho," Cosima grinned, raising her camera and adjusting the zoom lens. "Not uncommon around here, but that is a great shot."

"Ah, so you're now into photography," I asked, as she clicked the shutter several times.

"Yeah, I got into it a few years ago. Sometimes..." she lowered the camera, and her lips pressed into a rueful line, her gaze downward. "Life seems to pass by so quickly. I mean, other times it's slow. But I spent a lot of time avoiding memories, avoiding generating evidence that I had been places. So, I want to," her eyes flickered upward and she let out a breath. "I wanna have a record of some of the things I see, the things I experience now, I guess."

I didn't know what to say. So quickly my heart had plunged from a buzzing happiness to a painful mixture of worry and guilt as I thought of what she had been through because of DYAD, because of me, how she'd had to uproot herself and never settle, flying from perch to perch like that delicate butterfly.

 _But she's not that delicate,_ I marveled, my eyes tracing the strength of her jawline as she flexed it unconsciously.  _And she couldn't even have gotten away and stayed free without your help, whether she knew it or not._

The group was shuffling off ahead of us.

"Cosima…"

She shook her head as if shedding her thoughts.

"Let's catch up," she said.

We made our way through the forest, sighting monkeys and agoutis. At a small rest stop I came out of the rustic outhouse to find numerous hummingbirds zipping back and forth between feeders that had been set up. Cosima stood by them, grinning, her head following their paths. I stepped up close to her, and a brilliant streak of iridescent green and purple buzzed loudly between us, moving to hover over the deposits of sugar water.

"Check it out. You can see his tongue," Cosima said, and I squinted. Sure enough, a long, blink-and-you-miss-it muscle flicked out and in from its tubelike beak, lapping the sugar water. Again, I could be nothing but entranced by this closeup on nature, but I was pretty sure half of my enjoyment sprung from having the woman beside me standing close, the happy look on her face as she witnessed one of evolution's wonders, and the act of her sharing it with me.

There was a bit of a commotion by the path, and we turned to see some others from the group giggling, surrounded by bold, raccoon-like creatures with long, bending noses. Cosima chuckled.

" _Pizotes._  Coatis. It's kind of sad they've built up this racket of getting close to people and begging for treats, but they sure are cute."

"Hmm," I nodded thoughtfully. "You know, they remind me of you."

"What," Cosima rounded on me in mock indignation.

"Well. look at them. Bright-eyed, charming… and look how they stand up on their hind legs and wave their little hands around," I teased. "Textbook Cosima."

She was trying to look annoyed and failing.

" _You_ ," she said, hooking her thumbs under the straps of her backpack.

"Me," I asked, all innocence.

"Yeah,  _you_ ," she insisted, and started to walk away, once again obviously allowing me to catch up.

It was probably around noon when we came to the waterfalls. We made a quick leap over a small section of one, then eased down the steep, winding path to the pool at the bottom.

"Alright campers," the guide said. "Time for a swim! Enjoy the water, but don't drink it. We can also have a snack."

The rising heat under the thick canopy had plastered parts of my hair to my forehead, and I immediately dropped my bag with the others' and began stripping my clothes off. I convinced myself not to look around as I did it, to see if Cosima was watching, but the inviting pool beneath the burbling waterfall was a good distraction. I started to wade in, but before I got up to my navel there was a loud splash in front of me, and I had to shake off cold droplets from my face.

I looked up, gasping, and there was Cosima, laughing. She had slid down a natural incline in the waterfall above and come crashing down right in front of me, nearly making me jump out of my skin. Her head was tilted back, up to her neck in a deeper section of the pool, white teeth flashing and wicked, sharp canines on full display, while I had to wipe soggy hair out of my eyes. I gave her a look, fists on my hips.

" _You,_ " I said accusingly, echoing her previous scolding. I surged forward and splashed her back.

"Oh. You're so touchy, Doctor Cormier," she taunted, treading back away from me, and I launched myself, landing fully in the water, my long reach allowing me to grasp her ankle before she could escape.

She was laughing, struggling, as I gave her leg a yank, pulling her toward me. Her arms pushed up purposeful waves, splattering my face. I reached forward and grabbed her shoulder.

"Aha!" I exclaimed in triumph, and, putting my other hand on her other shoulder, I dunked her head down.

"Pah!" she gasped as she emerged, still laughing, and pushed at my chest. "Don't make me drink the water,  _Delphine!_ "

I was giggling, too, as I grasped at her shoulders again. Her hands caught my biceps, and the force of our motion sent us floating against each other, pressing, touching sternum to thighs. She flailed, but it seemed some of the fight was going out of her. Her eyes met mine, and I felt her strong, soft stomach slip against mine, her rough exhales mingling with my own. A feeling was rising in me, a desire so strong I could barely suppress it, my fingers trembling, but I also had a flash of consciousness, a warning inside me not to mess things up, a concern that I didn't know what she wanted or felt. Her head jerked to the side and looked away, and I realized that there were still other people all around us, floating, splashing, some playing, some talking quietly or sitting on the rocks eating. She pulled back and my hands released her instantly, my brow furrowed in worry that I'd made her feel self-conscious. She floated back a bit, and then aimed a small, somewhat tight smile at me.

"I'm gonna let you win," she said, "because I'm hungry."

"Mm. Me, too." I agreed.

We clambered out onto the rocks and took the small towels the guide produced for us. I caught glances of her in my peripheral vision as I wrung my hair. She was in only shorts and a deep red swimsuit top with a halter neck and a plunging neckline. Her body was just as toned and tanned and lithe in all the places revealed as it had been in the parts I'd seen uncovered in the yoga class.  _Je vais mourir, elle va me tuer,_ I groaned internally. If anything, she looked better than she had on the cusp of thirty. She looked impressive, almost intimidating, as if the confident energy that used to radiate from her hands had infused her entire body. I turned away, my towelling motions turning brisk, wanting to focus on the task, flustered, but when I turned again she was standing there, towel in hand, and looking at me, mouth slightly open, and I felt a heavy, inebriating drop from my chest to my stomach, and down between my legs.

I couldn't move, her eyes holding me there like I was caught, a slip of fabric twisting in the wind. Then she gave her head a small shake and turned away.

I was settled on a flat rock, chewing on my tofu sandwich and wishing for a good balsamic vinaigrette when she sat down beside me. She didn't look at me, propping her arms up on her knees, hands turning her water bottle, but she sat close enough that I could feel the warmth of her bare shoulder and damp hip next to mine. She watched the waterfall for a moment and cleared her throat.

"It's uh… it's good to just… hang out with you," she said softly, huskily. My breath was caught, but I tried to focus on something, the motion of the bottle in her hands, the filling of my sandwich.

"Yes," I finally acknowledged, voice soft as her own. "It really is."

She looked down for a moment.

"You know, I really like that you let your hair go curly again. It's… it's softer. I mean, your straight hair looked fine, too, and all, but I thought it felt a bit… severe."

I swallowed a dry bolus of soy and gluten-free bread and focussed on the waterfall.

"Thank you. That… you know, when we have to make changes in our lives, be… different, sometimes we need to change our appearance to, um, make it stick." I could feel she had turned to look at me. I pushed on.

"That was a time… that a harder part of me had to take over. But, I'm," I had to stop for a moment, as I felt a sudden welling in my eyes, an ache in my chest. I turned my head and met her eyes, hoping she could see the regret, the apologies churning inside me. "I've always been the same person, inside," I finally said, in nearly a whisper. "Someone that… for a long time, really only you got to see."

She looked back into my eyes, quiet for a moment, swallowed, and then finally said,

"I told you that I forgave you, Delphine."

She nudged my shoulder softly with hers, and part of me wanted to ask  _why, how_ , but another part wanted to say  _Je t'aime. Je n'ai jamais cessé de t'aimer, et je ne le ferai jamais._

"Alright, my friends," the guide called, clapping his hands. "Time to get back on the trail."


	13. Chapter 13

We continued on, still trailing behind the others, talking softly.

"... and everyone wanted to be Indian, Native American," she was saying, speaking of her time in Sedona, "but nobody really paid attention to the place. Like, the Native Americans are gone because we're here, and by the way, this was considered sacred land. Not exactly an appropriate place for a Starbucks and a strip mall."

I snorted lightly.

"It sounds like you found some problems and dishonesty in your pursuit of alternative healing, too. Tell me, did you never want to go back to science?"

She shot me a look.

"Well, hey, you know when I got started with that stuff I was a complete skeptic. I mean, I was trying to explain what was basically a miracle as a release of chemicals from my pineal gland during a near death experience. I didn't think, 'wait a minute, maybe the chemicals are part of the miracle. Maybe the effects we experience on DMT or ketamine are actual spiritual, energetic experiences, and our explanations of them are limited by what's physically observable.' It took me a while to believe things I had witnessed and experienced for myself, even if they couldn't be quantified in studies." She gave a small sigh. "Besides, it's not like I could have gone back to science, anyway. I was certain that if I went back to school, got a job in the field… hell, if I'd have taught a kids' science day at a local library, Topside would be onto me, like, posthaste."

I walked beside her silently for a moment.

"That must have been very hard," I said.

"Yeah," she let out a shuddering breath, as if the memory was about to make her cry. "It was  _really, fucking, hard._ " She clammed up, and we walked for a while without speaking, me wishing I could reach out to her, figure out how to address this properly, in a way that would help her. She blew out a hard sigh.

"But, I found out I'm really good at this stuff, and it's really interesting and beneficial, too. I've helped people. And, really, it makes just that much more sense to do ayahuasca in Peru as an alternative-lifestyle therapist-healer as it does as an evolutionary biologist." She smirked a bit at me.

"Really, you did that," I asked her, impressed, appalled and retroactively concerned that she had put herself at risk with a powerful and uncontrolled hallucinogen. "What was it like?"

"Well, about half of it was throwing up," she admitted wryly, "but the other half was super cool. I swear I saw, like, past lives and shit."

"Really," I nudged her, tone skeptical.

"I'm totally serious! At one point I was, like, some Viking bard, or something…"

I shook my head at her, smirking.

"Only you, Cosima."

"Only me? Hey, generations of Peruvians might beg to differ."

I let out a laugh, but my next question came out quieter.

"Were you with Shay, then?"

She glanced at me, the down at her feet, then once again ahead of her on the path. She shrugged.

"During the ayahuasca trip? Nah, I was single, then. Although I was about to enter a polyamorous relationship."

My feet abruptly stopped and I had to quick-step to catch up again.

"A what? Cosima!"

"Well, yeah, I was trying things. Expanding my universe, you know?"

"Hmm," I considered. "Actually, on second thought, I'm not that surprised. How was it?"

She let out a small snort.

"Eh, it was interesting. It was kinda fun, kinda different, for a while. Then one of them started wanting to have meetings every night to discuss our feelings and intentions around the parameters of the relationship and what we were trying to say politically, and the other one started pushing to get exclusive with me. I realized pretty quickly that I was not interested in either one of those things."

I chuckled a bit with her, but my brow was furrowed.

"And then…?"

She cocked her head, giving me an evaluating look.

"Are you trying to find out about my life experiences in the new age world, or are you trying to figure out my romantic history, Delphine?"

There it was, that Cosima bluntness. If anything, she'd become better at it now. Long ago, it had often been tinged with anger, with nervousness. This seemed to just be a direct question.

"Well," I pondered, "can't I learn about both?"

She cocked an eyebrow at me with a close-lipped smile.

"I've had a few girlfriends," she finally said. "and one boyfriend. I've travelled all over studying and teaching alternative modalities. I could tell you about Thailand. I could relate to you just how annoyed and antsy I got with yoga at first…. kinda like you are, now."

"Hey, I'm not that bad! I'm trying," I protested.

"Yes, you are," she answered. Then, after a beat, "and it's fortunate you're limber."

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow.

"I could probably stand improvement, a little coaching," I admitted, my tone sliding towards suggestive.

She let out a surprisingly harsh sigh. I looked at her.

" _Ugh,_ " she grunted, and shook her head. "Okay. Delphine, this…" she sighed again. "Let's take a step back."

I'm sure my face showed my confusion. I felt slapped down. Surely it couldn't have been my imagination that she'd been enjoying our banter?

"What's the problem," I asked her, "what did I do wrong?"

"Um, huh, nothing, really," she squirmed. "It's just… this, this flirting thing. We fall into it too easy. And, like, it's not, it's not appropriate. I'm not… I don't want to lead you on, or… get confused. That's just… that's just a place I don't want to go."

We walked beside each other for a moment, silence heavy.

"Why not," I asked quietly, finally.

She sighed and bit her lip.

"Because…" she started. We kept walking.

"Because what," I prompted, frustration tinging my question.

"Because… just  _because_ , Delphine." She seemed to be fighting with herself, and it was making her mad. But I was getting mad, too.

"Because  _what_ , Cosima? If it's easy, why is it so bad? I thought…" I struggled, looking for an angle to reach her, just wanting her to stop resisting, stop thinking about it. "I thought we were having fun."

"Uffff, we  _were_ , but… I don't think… I can't…"

She pulled up straight at a dead halt all of a sudden. I nearly tripped catching myself and turning back to her.

" _What,_ Cosima?"

"Wait," she said, and was quiet, her eyes shifting around.

I waited. I started to open my mouth.

"Shh," she held a finger to her lips. I was on the verge of blurting out my annoyance when a strange sound pierced the air

_Bong._

Her eyes opened wider, and her face turned excited.

_Bong._

It was loud, harsh, almost metallic. It sounded like a bell recorded poorly and played on a loudspeaker. it sounded like one tone and three tones poorly matched at the same time. Surely there was some sort of noisemaker or alarm nearby in the forest. Should I be worried?

"Cosima—" I began to whisper.

" _Delphine,_ " she shushed me, and turned to her right.

_Bong._

My frustration got the better of me.

"Alright, what the hell is that?"

"Delphine, keep your voice down! It's a bird. A three-wattled Bellbird. I have been hearing them every time I've come down here, sometimes for successive days for months, and I still have never seen one of those buggers."

_Bong…. bong._

She grasped one of my biceps with her hand.

"Holy French Jesus, Delphine. I have seen a fucking  _Resplendent Quetzal_ in the jungle, and I  _still_ have never seen one of these. And he's right… over… there…"

She paused again, then turned and started creeping into the treeline.

"Cosima!" I whispered harshly, but she kept walking, cocking her head whenever the sound came again, and slightly changing her trajectory. Finally she stopped and lifted her gaze way, way, up.

_BONG_.

Wow, that was loud. I had pulled up beside her, and she touched my forearm to keep me steady and silent. She slowly pulled up her camera and aimed it upward.

"Oh my God, Delphine," she whispered, "he's right. There."

I turned my eyes up the height of the tree before us. At first I saw nothing but branches swaying in the breeze, but then I saw a shape. A large, greyish-brown lump partially obscured by the leaves.

"Cosima, how did you find him? I can barely see anything…"

"Practice," she mumbled. She froze for a couple long seconds, and then she began taking pictures with her camera. I continued to look up, and saw a shift in the shapes above when another call of  _bong_  sounded. I was then able to figure out the bird's basic body outline.  _How in the world does a bird make that sound?_ I wondered.

There was a pause, and then a flurrying flap of wings, and the large shape of the bird lifted, silhouetted against the glaring sky, and flew off.

Cosima let down her camera. She quickly turned it around and started pressing buttons, looking at the screen on the back.

"Cos—"

She suddenly pumped her fist.

" _Yes!_  Check it out." She turned the screen to face me, as I took in the photo.

The bird was captured mid- _Bong_ , its relatively slender beak opened wide and extended nearly 180 degrees. Around its face trailed… three long things, strips of flesh, random and questionably useful.

Cosima looked up at me with a huge grin.

"Oh my God, Delphine. He looks  _ridiculous."_

I looked at the picture again, and it was true. It was like he had shown up at a corporate takeover planning meeting and decided to casually drape a few long, hanging ribbons from his face. I had never seen a bird trying to look so serious and yet coming across so silly in my life.

Tears were springing to her eyes, and she clung to my arm, wheezing with laughter.

"Those three… fucking…  _wattles_ ," she pushed out, and I lost it.

Our laughter rang out, echoing through the forest. We may have given the bellbird a bit of competition with the sheer level of decibels we reached, clinging to each other and shrieking with the release of laughter.


	14. Chapter 14

But we had a little problem. We realized it when we turned around, and saw that one series of trees and spaces between them looked much like the next.

"Cosima," I asked quietly, "do you know far we walked from the trail?"

She pressed her lips together in concentration.

"No, but I don't think too far, and I know the general direction."

"Okay," I acknowledged, but I admit I could not entirely keep the concern out of my voice.

She began walking forward decisively, and I followed her closely, just off her shoulder. She glanced over at me, and when her eyes shifted down my face I realized I was chewing my lip.

"Don't worry, I've been on this exact trail several times before." Her tone was curtly reassuring. I consciously released my lip from my teeth and walked along with her. A few more paces, and she was cocking her head. She approached one tree particularly overgrown with vines and air plants, then walked a full circle around it. I stopped, observing, restraining myself from saying anything. She looked in one direction and then the other, then finally nodded.

"Okay," she said firmly, jerking her head in one direction. "Let's go."

I was definitely nervous. She may have been on this tour before, but the foliage was dense and humidity formed a faint mist in the air that seemed to condense with distance, becoming thicker as I peered, attempting to find some kind of horizon, and eventually turned the view further off into a hazy scene, like a faded, old theatre scrim. It was dawning on me that, in following her, I had joined in a serious violation of the jungle tour safety rules. Night could come quickly under the canopy, our guide had explained to us, and it was easy get lost in the many square kilometres of the conservation park. True, we were unlikely to run out of water sources, but could wander in circles for hours, days, all the while surrounded by poisonous, stinging, biting plants, insects and animals. I had never been one to fly off the handle. I considered myself a strong, fit and capable person, with a good degree of intelligence. Lord knows I'd made it through dangerous and difficult situations before. The fact remained, though, that I was far out of my area of experience, much less expertise.

We kept walking. I felt sure we had gone further than we had to get to the bird, but when I cleared my throat to comment on it, Cosima immediately said "relax," in a less than relaxed tone. I couldn't tell if she was really irritated with me, or she was just mad at herself. She paused a moment, looked around, and veered to the left.

"Cosima—"

"Hold it," she stopped me. She stood still for a moment, closed her eyes, and took in a deep breath, spreading her arms. She remained like that, quiet.

"What are you doing," I finally blurted. I was starting to wonder if she was trying to work some kind of human compass spell, or something. She opened one eye at me, then shut it, breathing in again.

"I'm trying to center, be here in the now," she replied.

"And that's going to help us...?"  _Please, God, don't let her make a dowsing rod, or take out a crystal. Let us figure out a way out of here._

She opened both eyes and gave me a look the old Cosima would have, one of supreme annoyance.

"Calming the mind helps thoughts flow, Delphine. It helps you remember things and work out solutions. Also, it lets me tune into the sights and sounds and smells around us, which will help me pinpoint the direction we should go in. Plus, quite frankly, the last thing we need need to do right now is freak out and panic."

I took offense.

"I'm not 'fre _aking out and panicking,'"_  I countered, "I'm merely expressing my concern at the fact that we are lost and our group is moving further away as we stand here."

Her eyes narrowed.

"Well, while it's totally your right to have and own your feelings, your  _concern_  isn't doing anything constructive. So let's just take a deep breath, pause a moment, and know that everything is fine, and we will find our way."

"Wow," I marveled, "I'm impressed. Not only have you bought into all that gobbledygook, but you've maintained your unique ability to be condescending about it."

" _Me_ condescending," she retorted hotly, "are you listening to yourself? You just called my livelihood, and something that was very important to my recovery, 'gobbledygook.' You know, I've worked, I've really tried to change and I can't let you... you  _being like you always were_  derail me. This is, this is  _so like you_. Do you even have one idea about what to do in this situation, or are you just going to criticize me?"

" _I_  have changed,  _too,_ " I countered, my voice gaining that strained sound that caught me in a feedback loop, the obviousness of my own distress making me even more upset. "And, yes, if you listened a moment instead of hushing me and being…  _supercilious_ , was going to tell you that I have. my.  _phone_."

We were both wide-eyed now, brows flexing, panting a bit from emotional exertion, her hands in her hair and mine spread. There was a pause, and I tried to project my innocence, my  _usefulness_  toward her with my energy. If it would have helped, I would have envisioned all my various "chakras" lighting up and flashing at her right then. She just looked at me with her mouth gaping open, until she blinked, straightened up and crossed her arms.

"You have your phone," she said as more of a statement than a question, her voice a low hum, her expression veering into blasé.

"Yes," I answered. "Why? Am I violating the code of silence? Am I an, an evil person because I chose not to leave behind all my ties to civilization?"

She shifted her weight to one foot, lips pursing slightly, portraying an unlikely, sudden calm and a distinct aura of being unimpressed.

"No, no, not at all, Delphine," she responded, sweeping her palm toward me. "It's not against the rules and I can see where it would make you feel safe. Go right ahead."

I wasn't sure what to say, so I just huffed a little while I swung my bag off my shoulder and started to root in it with my other hand. I fumbled a bit before finding the interior pocket, then opened it and drew out my cell phone. I held it up in her line of vision, I wasn't sure why — to display the evidence of my intelligence? — and then pressed the on button. She continued to watch me all the while, the fingers of one hand drumming on her other arm.

I waited for it to turn on — I knew I had kept it charged — so I could have my moment of triumph. When the familiar tune played, I barely held back from letting out a "hah," and looked at it.

And kept staring for a while.

I waited another moment. I shifted, turning in a circle, and pacing in opposite directions. All the while her one eyebrow rose as her lips twisted.

I peered at the phone, I moved it up and down again. It didn't help.

Not one bar of reception.

" _Merde,"_ I finally swore, "you have  _got_  to be kidding me!"

Cosima let out a little  _hmph_ of bitter triumph. When her voice came out again, it had that tone I hated, the one that said she always knew best.

"We're in the jungle, Delphine," she said. "It's a national preserve. There's nothing for miles around. The guides basically keep in touch with each other via walkie-talkies and scheduling. And notches on dead trees, for all we know."

My hands dropped to my sides, a sigh that was part moan escaping me.

"You mean we're stuck," I asked her. "We're lost and there's no way out unless we find the path again, and we don't know where it is."

She sucked on her teeth and cocked her head, then responded.

"Noooo, if you had let me finish my focusing technique, I might have had the time to tell you that I hear water flowing in the distance. That means we're probably not far from the river, and if we can find the river, we can follow it back to the waterfalls, and thus back to the trail."

I stared at her for a moment. I had felt so sure she was being stubborn and quirky, and I, with my rational mind, would sweep in and help.

Was it true? Had I really not changed, at all? Was her running away completely justified?

"Cosima—" I began, my eyebrows lifting in apology, admission, supplication, but she held up a hand.

"If you want to help, Delphine, use your ears as backup, although I'm pretty sure I can figure out where the sound is coming from, if we don't talk too much."

She turned on her heel and began walking through the forest again. I looked after her, my heart sinking, and followed her again.

We walked for a few moments before I heard the river, myself. She turned her head back and forth, and then altered course just slightly toward it. I kept walking behind her, just a few steps back.

"Cosima —" I said quietly, but she jerked her head and picked up her step. The sound of rushing water was getting louder now, and it was obvious it was sloshing against rock.

"Hey," I tried again, but she just held up her hand in that blocking gesture, again. I felt myself deflating, mortified, self-recriminating. "I… listen, I'm sorry—"

We rounded a cluster of foliage and there it was, the small river, rolling along, just below the hill above the bank that we were travelling. Cosima paused, nodding her head in grim satisfaction, and began walking upstream beside it.

I pushed forward, taking a couple of extra long steps to catch up.

"Cosima, you were right. I was thinking I could solve things and I, I dismissed your abilities, your experience and volition. I… I panicked a little and, I can see why that would make you angry. But I only intended —"

"Yeah, that's how it always is with you, isn't it," she muttered, "you 'only intended.'"

"Cosima," I reached and my fingers found her arm. I tugged and she turned around, her posture stiff and angry. "I'm trying to apologize. I... I know how brilliant you are. I always have. But I also felt I… I had a responsibility, a need to protect you. Just… one thing after the next to try to make up for everything you were going through, and the part I played in it as your monitor. I knew how difficult it was for you, and—"

"Did you, Delphine? Because it seems like you were trying to make up for things, but maybe more to make it less difficult for yourself."

We stared at each other, both our gazes raw. I was horrified, apologetic and frustrated all at once, my breaths coming in unsteady gasps. She was full of anger and hurt, not as forgiving, it appeared, as she had attested.

"Cosima," I finally pushed out, in a whisper that barely wafted over the sound of the river. "I'm sorry. But you need to know, it was never about making things easy for me. You know I… I had to do things to protect you, and your sisters. I did what I had to do to help you all survive, to spare you from, from seeing what I could become, from having to be attached to me and thus DYAD… But it was very, very, so very difficult for me. Letting go of you was the hardest thing I ever had to do. You know I wanted to try again when Topside went down. But… but then you had had enough of me. You wanted out, and understandably so, but…" I felt exposed, desperate, just barely registering a tear that slipped from my eye. "I never stopped loving you," I said.

She looked at me, her expression still hard, now frustrated. Her voice started loud.

"I know that's what you  _thought_ ," she threw back at me, "but you took away my ability to decide for myself. You were so busy not wanting to let me judge you that you shut me out. And… I know some of the things you did. Sarah told me, and I found out. I know you did what you thought was best to protect us, and it mostly worked, despite any second-guessing I might have done. But," she bit her lip, and her voice dropped in volume, became strained in a wearier way.

"You took away my choices. And you set yourself on saving me and everyone else, without even thinking once that maybe I would rather… rather not have been alone when I was  _dying_ , for fuck's sake. That maybe I'd rather be  _endangered_  than  _abandoned_."

Hearing the tremor in her voice and seeing the rising tide of tears in her eyes opened me chest to belly, all my old hurts spilling out like a bloody mess of my internal organs between us. I could tell she was hurting, too, but she was holding on, just, her anger and her raw honesty giving her strength.

"Cosima, you have to believe me," I managed to push out, my other hand reaching out until I was gripping both of her arms. "I never meant to abandon you, to make you feel alone or unloved. Everything I did was to work for your, and the others', safety. And I can see now… maybe I should have, yes, I should have included you more in my decisions. But I felt like, in the face of my emotions for you I would be so weak, and I could… I might slip up and seal your fate because of my very need and desire for you. And…" I felt a silent sob wrack my chest, "and that was so long ago, now. And we were so very young and under such dire, crazy circumstances. I really need you, I do need you to forgive me, and I need you to understand… even if maybe I don't deserve it…"

Her hand reached up and caught my arm. She took a shuddering breath.

"It was," she said, her eyes piercing mine, less angry now than sad and haunted. "It  _was_ a long time ago. And when I said it, I meant it, Delphine. I  _do_  forgive you. And I did make hotheaded decisions, myself. I can, I can understand that you did all that to try to protect me and you made great sacrifices. But I can't, I just can't fall into those old patterns with you, again. Sometimes, I mean, we can work to resolve the feelings, but we have to put the past behind us. Things are different, now. I'm not who I was, and maybe you aren't either."

We stood, transfixed by each other's gazes. I felt her slipping away from me.

"No," I said. "No, neither of us is the same, and there are things we need to leave in the past, but…" I stepped closer, and I grabbed her hand, clasping it to my heart. "Tell me you don't feel it. Tell me you don't still feel the love between us."

Her mouth hung open, cycled through a series of movements, of half-formed and unsounded words. She stiffened up, and pulled back a bit.

"Delphine, stop it, no. I told you I don't want to do this."

I couldn't let this happen. My heart wouldn't let me. I pressed closer to her, my eyes searching her face, hoping, imagining I still saw it in her, the pull that drew her to me as it pulled me to her, the overwhelming  _rightness_  of us being together, even if, in so many ways, I, we had fucked things up. The cards were stacked against us from the very beginning, and still our spirits, who we were, couldn't resist the call to one another. I  _couldn't_  be wrong about this, I couldn't be just caught up in the past. For all my mistakes, for all her hardheadedness and emotion…

"... it couldn't have been a mistake," I voiced aloud. "I'd never, never loved anyone like that, before, barely loved at all, and you… it's not just a physical call, or some psychological, twisted… it's not just who we were, in those circumstances, back then…" I was rambling now, but I couldn't stop myself. I took another step closer to her, and cupped her jaw and head just below her ear with one of my hands, willing her to look up and really meet my eyes, my thumb tracing her cheek. "My God, Cosima, I have always been rational, a scientist, trying to stick to the, the observable facts, but it's different with you, it always was. With you, the observable facts defy explanation, or control… with you I feel like… I feel like there is such a thing as a soul, something so strong and primal I can't even imagine. Something greater than you or me, alone… maybe it's this  _chi,_  or  _energy_  or  _life force_ you talk about in yoga and meditation, and when we move together… it blossoms and it  _flows_ …"

She was breathing heavily, her eyes very wide. Maybe I seemed like a maniac. Maybe I was letting the heat of the jungle and the press of the air and the roar of the river get to me, but I seemed to have lost, to be giving up, all that control that I had carefully gathered and built up and settled around me. I could only do, only reach for one thing.

" _Je t'aime_ ," I husked at her, pressing close. "It's not a lie, it never was. It's the one thing I've been sure of. I  _love you_ , Cosima." My lips were upon hers. I was kissing her desperately, with feeling and conviction and pleading. And her lips softened for a moment and gasped, and then she pushed against me.

" _Uhn_ ," she grunted, "can't you see you're pushing me… you're being aggressive…"

"For all the times I pushed you, this was the one circumstance you never complained about," I countered, feeling almost feverish, trying to use those words, that old flirting tone, to convince her, to connect. I held onto her. I dipped my head to kiss her neck and whisper in her ear. "You always liked it when I was aggressive with you, this way. Is that not the case, anymore?"

She trembled, and then her hands moved up to grasp my upper arms and pushed.

"Delphine,  _Jesus…_  can't you see you're doing it again? You're taking my agency, my  _volition_  away?"

She pressed again, this time against my arm and chest, and I was suddenly horrified at myself.  _Non,_  I thought,  _this isn't how I meant to be. No matter how much I love her and want her, this isn't fair to her_.  _What do I want, her to give in to my pushing, to regret it later? Have I gotten violent, gone mad?_

"Oh my God," I murmured, and our gazes locked. "I'm so sorry. You're right. Forgive me. I can't… I can't be unfair to you. I can't deny your self-determination like everyone else…"

And in my horror, my contrition, I not only let go of her, but I pushed a little against her, to separate us.

And for a moment she looked relieved, maybe grateful, as if she might say something…

But then she overbalanced, stumbled back, and there was a  _hiss_  as the leaves and slick mud gave way beneath her, and she slid, feet-first, hands grasping at moving earth, down the embankment.

_No._

" _Cosima,"_  I croaked in breathless shock. " _No. Hold on."_

And I pushed myself off and over, sliding down on my rear end after her.

I tumbled a bit at the end, lurching forward and grasping at her, urgently wanting to reach her, to make sure she was okay. I knew I wasn't thinking clearly, but all that mattered was her safety, her wellness, now. She had slid a little further, and was leaned over, one foot sunken in the muddy bank, the other planted in the river, the water sloshing up to her calf and into her boot. Her arms were still spread and pinwheeling slightly to maintain her balance. I reached out and grabbed the wrist closest to me to steady her.

" _Cosima_ ," I hissed, "are you alright?"

She turned back to me, and her expression was surprised, wondering, like nothing I would have expected. Her fingers rotated and locked on my own wrist, and she raised her other hand, index finger extended, to her mouth.

" _Delphine,"_ she whispered, " _shhh…"_

I didn't understand what was happening, her reaction, why she was shushing me, and then she reached out with her arm, now pointing to the water, down the stream, and I obeyed her, and looked.

Not far away, frozen in dappled light, a large jaguar stood, paws immersed, ears and eyes cocked toward us.

We held our breath.

There was a moment of the river flowing and burbling, the sound of birdsong, a breeze that made the tree leaves ruffle and shift. We were motionless, Cosima, the jaguar and I. I felt fear, but more that that, I felt awe, I felt a connection to this place that I hadn't before, as if it were sacred. I felt privileged.

Slowly the big cat sniffed the air, its tail giving a low, restrained flick. It rolled its shoulders, rippling rosetted flesh, and leaned forward. It was clear it saw us, now, heard us, smelled us. We all hung in suspense, watching each other.

I knew how rare this was, how few of these animals remained in the world, how secretive and elusive they were. It was like stumbling upon a living temple, the embodiment of the strength, the spirit of the rainforest, totem to the Mayans and Aztecs. It was a large mammal, yes, in the  _Panthera_  genus, powerful and dangerous. But as the sunshine streamed through the leaves and the mist in long rays, lighting its eyes in greens and golds, I could do nothing but admire it, squeeze my fingers against Cosima's wrist, and feel hers squeeze against mine.

Slowly it began to walk, almost directly toward us. Its mouth opened to show ivory fangs, the pink of tongue. Just outside the shadow of the tree we were under it stopped, and looked at us. I felt a connection, then. It was fleeting, I wasn't sure what it was, but something moved me, and I felt sure that it was something just beyond my understanding, and that Cosima felt it, too.

The big cat closed its mouth and took slow breaths,  _one, two_ , staring at us silly humans. And then its haunches tensed, and flexed, and it had launched itself in a few great leaps across the river, and up the other side, disappearing in the undergrowth.

We both held on there for a moment, just breathing.

And then we each tugged on each other slightly, simultaneously, so that Cosima pulled upright and back onto the bank, close to me. She was looking down then, at the muddy ground, at our still-connected hands.

"The waterfalls should be just upstream," she murmured, after a moment, finally looking up and away in that direction.

"Okay," I said, gently letting go of her. "You lead, and I'll follow."

We walked wordlessly for minutes, until we came to the waterfalls. We saw the distinctive blue blazes that marked the trail we had been on, and we both sighed in a sort of flummoxed relief. Quietly, we climbed back up the path by the waterfalls, until we came close to the small leap, and heard different sounds. They were voices, emerging from the white noise of the waters, and then we saw people. They waved, and a young local man in a ranger uniform came jogging up to us, walkie-talkie in hand.

"Are you alright," he asked, his face pulled together in concern. "We've been looking for you."

"We're fine, we're good," Cosima responded, giving him a nod. "We're just embarrassed, and sorry. We hope we didn't cause too much worry and trouble. And we'd like to get back to our boat."

"Yes, yes, of course," the guide assured us, probably just relieved the blundering tourists hadn't gotten themselves injured or killed.

We made our way back the way we had originally come from, under his guidance, and were greeted with great concern by our guide and our group by the boat.

"What you did was very dangerous," he told us lowly after the explanations and check-ins were done. "We were all very lucky today. We were worried, and we're glad you're safe,"

We acknowledged this like children who knew they'd been naughty, knew fortune had been kind to them, but were too tired to fuss. We loaded back onto the boat with the rest of the group and headed out.

A few of them tried to ask us what happened, but Cosima deflected them.

"We just wandered, and we're really exhausted. I can tell you more about it later, alright?"

We sat there in silence, all the way back. Even as a pod of spinner dolphins joined us, swimming, twisting and leaping beside our boat, we just watched them, next to each other, not touching, but fingers on the seat close, knuckles white. She was still beautiful as the reddening rays of the late day sun carved her silhouette, but I felt knocked sideways out of the real world, stunned and unsure, so all I could do was sit there, suspended in a daze of disbelief and regret.

At the dock, when we landed, I turned and looked at her.

Her eyes glanced up towards mine, but quickly bounced away. She called out to one of the others she knew and jogged off to them, joining them on their climb up the hill, leaving me behind.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to thank everyone who has commented again for your lovely input! I am kind of delighted that there seems to be two camps: the Poor Delphine camp and the Delphine Needs To Chill And Not Be An Asshat camp. Perhaps there are some of you who belong to both. Anyway, let's see what you think after this chapter. ;)

Back in my cabin, I still moved and thought slowly, as if through water, as if in a trance.  I took a long shower, washing away the grime and the mud, and applied my moisturizing lotion all over, lost in my routine.  I remembered too late how, in this unremitting humidity, it could make me feel coated, as if the sweat was pooling under my skin, but a cool breeze came through the louvers and soothed me.  A cold front was blowing in.

 

I sat, shutters opened enough to stare out the window, but closed enough to keep it dim, and watched as the sun set, pushing a brief, deep red glow under the roiling of gathering, dark clouds.  A few birds streaked by, but the forest and the resort grounds around me seemed quiet, as if all creatures held their breath.

 

There was a soft knock at the door.

 

I was up and opening it before I knew what happened, but it was not who I had hoped.  It was the woman who had sat with me at the table during mealtimes.  She was silent, but she offered a dish to me, covered in a napkin.  She lifted the corner of the cloth so I could see the food beneath: fresh fruit, rice and beans, and platanos.  

 

“Thank you,” I murmured softly, on automatic pilot.  She raised her eyebrows and whispered, the first time I heard her speak.

 

“I thought you might be hungry, I heard you had a rough day.”  She shrugged slightly, affably.

 

It struck me as funny that she had heard that at a silent retreat, especially as she was one of the people who seemed committed to the routine, but I nodded my head and she smiled, handing me a new bottle of water.  She gave a small wave and turned around on the porch, and there was the sound of thunder ripping above us.  We both instinctively looked up, the sky partially blocked by the overhang of the roof, and she pulled the hood of her light sweatshirt over her head.  There was a pregnant pause, and then a hiss as the rain came down, rustling in the leaves and the fronds covering the cabin roofs, pattering against the walls and path stones.  She steeled her shoulders and took off at a jog, quickly obscured in the rain and the darkness, and I retreated back into my cabin.

 

I sat at the small table for a long time, drinking the water and looking at the plate of food.  I picked at some sliced mangoes and rice and left the rest.  I’m not sure how much time went by, but I could hear the rain picking up, the thunder crackling and rumbling, resounding with more forceful, vibrating _booms_ as it seemed to move closer.  I sighed and took out a cigarette, then paused to dig in my bag for my small journal and a pen.  I sat back down at the table and lit my smoke, staring down at the paper for a while.  Finally, I leaned forward.

 

_Dear Cosima,_ I wrote.   _I want to say I’m sorry again, to ask you to forgive me, even though you say you already have.  Yet it’s not the past I’m sorry for, but for how I acted today.  Seeing you has thrown me for a loop, and it seems to have shaken you, too.  I’m afraid I haven’t handled it very well, and I apologize, for pushing you, for “freaking out” and for violating your space and trust.  I apologize for not listening closely enough, and for acting, in my nervousness, as if I knew better than you.  You are the most intelligent, thoughtful person I have ever met, and I was wrong, blindly stuck on some unfair, emotional track that I should not have let run between you and me._

I chewed on the end of my pen, searching, feeling clumsy with my words in English.

 

_So, I have to apologize for today.  But I have to take some apologies away.  I’m not sorry for breaking things off with you when I had to, even if it wounded us both so terribly, because it means you’re alive to be mad at me, and I’m alive to wish you understood and still wanted me, and that Kira, and Sarah and the others are all alive to go through their pains and their struggles and hopefully their content daily lives to this day.  I’m not sorry for doing some of the terrible things I had to do, that perhaps Sarah told you about, even though they feel like a stain on my soul, because they saved you, preventing your rapid execution and giving you time to cure yourself, with medicine and science and the energy you believe in that, if it has made you whole, I must believe in, too._

_I can be sorry for other things.  I’m sorry that I did not make it clearer to you that I still loved you, through all that, that I hoped our separation would not be forever.  It’s just that I had so little hope, and so much doubt.  I was scared to think ahead too far.  And now it’s years ahead and I wish I had been able to handle it better, to think things through and express to you how badly I wished to be close to you, to support you all that time.  But I feared if I let one bit, one small part of the emotion I felt for you, escape and leak through, that I would break, that I would slip in my façade at DYAD, or be powerless to resist taking any chance, doing whatever it took, to keep you safe and with me, above the others.  It was an instinct to protect you, you whom I loved, you who chafes at being mothered or protected, just like the one that drove you to build the weapon that Sarah used against Rachel, despite knowing that the consequences might fall back on you and Scott.  I hope someday you will understand that, and I wish it were today, and I wish it erased all the hurt and the time that has separated us, so that we could see each other without flinching, without caution or desperation.  But it doesn’t, and I accept that.  I only want you to be happy, really, Cosima, but I can’t be sorry that I wish it was with me, because my heart won’t let me._

 

I sighed, bunching one hand in my hair. I had to find courage.  I was writing this for her, to explain, but for me, as well.  I had to find clarity in what I wanted, clarity in where I was,  right then, in the moment, even as my mind and soul tried to reach back and re-enact and mourn and fix the past.  

 

_I want to push for what feels so right, so real and essential between us, because I still love you and crave you.  But I also want to release you, to give you the time and space to make your own decisions and feel your own feelings without pressure from me.  It’s a difficult place to be in, and I know that just puts my tension on you.  Cosima, I don’t even know if you’re with someone or you’re free!  I don’t know how much you have changed your outlook or how different the life you lead is and what you want today, in the now.  So, I can tell you this.  I will release you.  I will stop bothering you, following you, trying to be close.  I will try to schedule an earlier departure, not because I want to run away from you, but because you have the right to live your life without my interference, my feelings for you and the longing I find it so hard to repress.  In return, I ask for nothing, because there’s nothing I think you should or must give.  I will just_

 

My hand stopped at this.  I tapped on the paper, began to write an ellipsis, then a long dash of uncertainty, of pausing and thinking and emphasis.  I sighed as the ink blotted and bled in an irregular circle around the pen tip when I held it there too long.  I crossed through the phrase, striking it out.

 

_I will just make sure that Margot has all my contact information.  That way, I force nothing on you, but if someday you want to contact me, to yell at me or discuss this or reconnect, you can reach out to me, and I will be available to you for whatever you want.  I make you that promise, as surely and seriously as I made that promise to love all of you, you and your sisters.  All you have to do is send me word, Cosima, in whatever spirit or emotion you wish, and I will come running, I will drop everything for you.  Because I have changed, Cosima, and I know you have, but the love I feel for you, even all this time later, never can._

 

I sat there a long time before I signed the letter, contemplating crumpling it, destroying it, packing it away somewhere and never taking it out,  Then I rose with a steady push and grabbed my umbrella.  I slid on my simple sandals and picked up my flashlight, and walked out, into the rain, and up to her cabin.  For a moment, I hesitated.  I leaned my ear close to the door, trying to make out whether or not there were any sounds from within, but I heard nothing over the low rumbling of the thunder, the whoosh and howl of the wind and the spattering of the raindrops from the storm.  I raised my hand, and pushed the note halfway through the slats of the shuttered door, making sure it hung there firmly, secure.

 

I walked back to my cabin and dried myself off.  I cleaned out the ashtray and put the plate of food in a bag to carry to the trash in the morning, then brushed my teeth and changed into the tank top and underwear I slept in.

 

It took me a while to fall asleep, with the thunder and the rain, but more from the keening of my soul, the pounding of my heart, shaking my chest and resounding in my inner ears.  

 

_What’s done is done,_ I told myself, and allowed my mind no further wandering.   _What’s done is done, now go to sleep, and be ready to let go again._

  
*****


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ready?

I didn’t know what had awakened me.  I imagined it was some sound, or some breeze, but I couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t be sure.  I rolled to my back, groggy, and made to reach for the low nightstand.  I could only find my phone or my flashlight by touch, in that heavy velvet darkness.

 

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash of lightning, and a crack of thunder, alarmingly close.  As my body jerked in surprise, my eyes saw at once what it took a moment for my brain to comprehend.  The flash of white-blue light had been so bright because my door was open.  My door was open with only the screen closed, and the rain had been jittering down in hefty, strobing streaks, as the breeze blew full on my face, with nothing to block it.

 

And my eyes saw something else.

 

Half of an outline, a silhouette in the blackness.  A small, strong body in a shortened tank top, a cascade of loose dreadlocks blocking the light from her face.

 

“ _Delphine,_ ” she whispered.  I sat bolt upright.

 

“ _Cosima,_ ” I answered, and registered a small streak of light as she turned on a dim lantern, then moved all at once to the bed, dropping the amber light on the nightstand.  There was the _whisk_ of the mosquito netting parting, being pushed aside, and then she was on the bed beside me, sitting, her hip against mine, and her eyes were peering through the darkness, only the whites visible and the irises filled with black.

 

And then her arms came around me and she pressed.  She pressed her chest to mine and her hands to my head and neck and her mouth, hungry, open, to mine.  My body responded immediately, my hands clutching at her and my mouth returning her kiss.  Our breaths were harsh, clashing, as our lips slid, sucked and grasped, our tongues entangled and she began to move hers in and out, fucking my mouth with it slickly, with just the right pressure, and a moan caught in my throat and I eagerly sucked her in.

 

She pushed harder and I fell back on the bed, her atop me, forcing a gasp out of my throat.  We we both writhing, rucking, our shirts riding up, torsos sliding against each other’s, slick with humidity and sweat.  One of her thighs slipped between mine and pressed against my center, nearly making me black out with desire, both yearning and fulfilled.  A deep moan escaped me.

 

“ _Cosima..._ ”  I said it again, between kisses, repositionings of our lips, “ _ohh…_ ”  I rolled against her, breaking like waves, her hands on my face, under my shirt, hot against my ribs, stroking my breasts.  My nails found purchase under her tank top, digging into her skin, and we both hissed with the feel of it.

 

“Yessss,” I moaned, “I didn’t know you would come… I didn’t expect you…”

 

“Shhh,” she told me, and kissed me again.  “Don’t talk.  Just let me touch you.”

 

Wordlessly I agreed, pushing at her slightly with the urge to turn her over, to see and feel and hear and taste her coming undone in pleasure beneath me, as I had so many times when we were together.  So many times, but not enough, and nowhere near the number of times I’d imagined inside my head, dreamed it, since then.  But she resisted, firm, and I gathered that she wanted me to receive her, to let her take me and claim me and push inside my body as she had my heart.  

 

I gave in willingly, deliriously, as our bodies found their glorious rhythm, hands pulling off clothing, hips rolling and grinding, tongues and lips and teeth finding throats and ears, tracing breasts and enfolding areolae, flicking and sucking and causing nipples to throb, to send waves of clenching heat down to my groin.  She pressed even further and I let her, welcomed her, as I folded in my passion and the flexibility brought by the heat and the stretching I’d done and the rush of neurochemicals, and brought my knees to my ears and spread ma chatte so she could fill me deeply, her fingers curling inside, her thumb pressed by her thrusting pubic bone against my clitoris, her whole body working mine until I erupted, jolts like the lightning outside wracking me, tears pouring from my eyes in an extended, seemingly timeless moment of orgasm, of coming in waves and vibrations and in beats of my heart singing _finally_ and _gratitude_ and _love_ and _yes_.

 

And when I came back to myself, she was holding me, kissing my tears, her own cheeks hot and wet, and easing me into a loose, supine position.  

 

“I love you,” she said.  “I still love you, goddamn it.  Don’t ever pull away from me again.”

 

My hands found her face, and I promised her, kissing her lips, cheeks and temples as I repeated, “ _Je t’aime_ … never again, mon amour… never again.”

 

We rested, stroking and kissing one another until I recharged, and my need to touch and taste her became too great for me to resist.  She moaned under me, head thrown back, neck arched, much as she had when we were younger, but with less shyness, less hesitance.  Time and experience had changed her, hurt her, perhaps, but also let her grow into a woman grounded, a woman fully inhabiting herself and willing, much to my joy, to let me touch her inside, physically and emotionally, to give the power inside her over to me, knowing she had an endless fount within.

 

We lay, wrapped in each other’s arms, the crashing of the storm outside also over, a mere, occasionally gusting patter beating uneven tempos on the roof.

 

She kissed me softly, and brushed our noses together, entwining and stroking the fingers of one of my hands with hers, as she had before, when we were together, weaving our connection with our digits and palms.

 

“Are you alright,” she asked me softly, and I hummed in a reflexive, positive response.

 

“Yes,” I told her, “I’m more than alright.  I’m fantastic.  I just…” I smiled and blinked back tears for a moment.  “I don’t want to question it, what brought you here, but I am so happy.  And I hope you are, too.”

 

“I’m good,” she responded, her voice warm, reassuring.  “I’m still… figuring out how we got here, how all this happened.  But I’m here because I want to be, because I want to be with you.  I just have… years of repressing it and convincing myself it was over to process.”

 

I nodded, catching her hand with my own and kissing her palm.  I knew what she meant.  So many times I had told myself that one affair, one love, even a dramatic one, didn’t define a lifetime, that hearts healed and moved on and loved again.  And I had loved, somewhat, I had been in relationships.  But none of them shook and reverberated in me like she had, none of them was Cosima.

 

She let out a little “huh,” and shook her head, and I squinted, eyes working to see her better in the faint glow of the lamp.

 

“What, mon amour?”

 

“It’s just… all this time I’ve been working, meditating… reaching, trying to find a kind of... all-encompassing peace and love in the universe.  And I think it’s out there, I think we’re connected, in whatever way, and we can touch and tap into it.  But I wonder… how much of that seeking was due to the miracle of my survival, and how much of it was needing to fill the hole where our love, where you, had been?”

  
I didn’t know what to say to her.  And she said nothing more.  She simply kissed my forehead, her dreadlocks a curtain around my face, and let out a sigh as I nuzzled her neck.  We were still pressed close, our arms around one another, when I felt my eyes drift closed, and my consciousness drift away.


	17. Chapter 17

I emerged from sleep slowly, as if from a warm bath, my body and mind relaxed. Before I opened my eyes I remembered what had happened the night before, and a smile formed on my lips. I opened my eyes and rolled to see the other side of the bed, but she wasn't there. I probably took this in for a few seconds, mind turning slowly, but then I registered that the pillow was sunken, the sheet flung back, and the delicious smell of sex and her and the subtle, new sort of peppery, vanilla, resinous amber scent she now wore at her pulse points wafted around me, initiating a low, hot buzz and roll at the bottom of my belly, a wash and pulse to my  _vagin_. I pressed my nose to the pillow and breathed it in, remembering her skin, her breath, her lips against mine. One might think I was a girl swooning over her first love, but this feeling was different. It was a sensation lost and hard-won again, not the original madeleine of Proust's childhood, but the one that caused him the joyful frisson of a warm, formative memory. I felt  _happy_ , and I luxuriated in it for several moments.

After taking one more deep inhale, I rose to my feet and stretched. Although I tried to take care of my body, most mornings I barely felt it, registering only the soft massage of the shower on my skin, or the first smell and taste of coffee. My mind was occupied with other things, and at times I found myself tense in the shoulders, rushing, or slouching, dazed, from not enough sleep. But at this moment I felt my entire length and breadth, as if my nerves had awakened and produced a new or finer sense, the ability to feel each separate muscle, the very movement of molecules in the air against my flesh. Even the slight ache in my feet and my sex was satisfying, pleasant.

I padded to the bathroom, softly calling her name, but she wasn't there. I felt inordinately disappointed, but I took the time to splash my face and brush my teeth before I exited. I didn't want to shower, yet, to wash the scent and feel of her off my skin. I pulled on an oversized t shirt and some loose shorts and walked to the door.

I checked the porch, but once again, she wasn't there. I'd fancied I'd perhaps find her doing her salutation to the sun, or playing with the birds, or lolling in the hammock, but it was just me and my damp clothes on the hanging line out there. I stretched again, taking in and really appreciating the view, and realizing it was probably much later in the morning than I had been getting up… for meditation and yoga class.  _Ah, that's where she must be,_  I realized, and stepped back inside to drink a glass of water and tidy up a bit.

I was sorting through my bath towels when there was a light knock on the door. I practically skipped over to it.

"Oui," I asked.

"Oh, are we being French today? Did you get the English knocked out of ya," came the teasing response in her voice, and once again I rolled my eyes at how only she could disarm me with crudity. I opened the door.

She was there, clad in her yoga clothing, hair pinned up in a bulky bun, and holding a covered tray. When her eyes met mine she smiled, eyeteeth flashing, and I couldn't help the huge grin I responded with.

"Technically, I am always French," I informed her.

"You sure are," she smirked. "May I," she asked exaggeratedly, and took a step toward the door. I reached out and grabbed the front of her tank top, pulling her in, and pressed a kiss to her lips, bending somewhat awkwardly over the tray. She closed the door behind her and chuckled.

"Okay, okay don't make me drop it. I thought you might want breakfast." She opened the dish and laughed when my expression changed to surprise.

"Is that—" I began.

"Yup, eggs florentine and a cortado, completely non-vegan and loaded with butter. It pays to know the cooks," she wiggled her eyebrows. "This place doesn't always host this kind of retreat. No croissants, but I got you some fruit, too."

After days of soy and nut derivatives, my mouth watered at the smell, and I eagerly took the dish and sat with it at the table.

"And you," I asked, looking up as she took the other chair, leaning in it back against the windowsill. She waved her hand.

"Already ate. I thought I'd let you sleep in. I was this close to rousing you before sunrise and making you go through the advanced routine this morning, but you looked too blissed out to wake up, so I let you slide."

I grinned back at her, already slicing part of the egg-topped english muffin, and took a bite. My eyes closed in satisfaction, and a tiny moan escaped my throat. She laughed.

"I thought so," she nodded. We sat there in amicable silence for a while, me savouring the food and her sipping on a thermos and watching, sloe-eyed.

"So, are you taking any classes or doing anything in particular, today," she asked me, as I laid down my fork and took a sip of the warm coffee brew.

"Mm," I said, after I swallowed. "To be honest, I hadn't really thought about it. I could go to the pottery class and see if my vase survived the kiln. There are some beach outings, or… there's a scheduled meditation class for people who have work stress." I shrugged. "I don't know." I looked her in the eye. "All I can really think about is spending time with you."

Her eyes flared with interest and desire, but she blinked and looked away.

"Ah, come on, there. You do know I actually have to work, here, right? I'm one of the employees, you know."

"Yes, of course," I acknowledged, leaning toward her, "but I would also think that, as an employee, it would be part of your job to make sure the... guests are comfortable and satisfied."

A smirk pulled at the corners of her mouth.

"Ooh, Dr.  _Cormier_ ," she said in a flirtatious tone, "but then, what about me keeping all the other guests, um, comfortable and satisfied?"

"Mm," I slid my chair closer and reached out, circling her exposed knee with my finger. "Well, I know I should be charitable for the sake of everyone's… finding inner peace," I noted, mock-seriously, "but the thing is, I really need your extra attention," I reached around to the underside of her knee and gave a little tug, causing her and her chair to tilt forward again, the front legs touching back to the ground, "and I'm willing to bribe you."

She leaned a little further forward toward me and lightly stroked my wrist that was brushing her knee.

"Well, right now, I've got until about quarter to two, but I do think there are other things that might interest and be good for you, here. Also…" she looked down at where my thumb was stroking her leg, while my fingers swirled in feather-light circles in the the soft crease behind the joint. "I do want to… talk with you, you know, about some things."

I stilled my hand, instantly nervous, but I tried to catch her eye and meet her directly.

"Yes, of course, ma colombe," I answered seriously. "I know you have your job, and I also think it would be good to talk." Her gaze flicked back up to me, and her smile returned.

"Good," she said, moving closer, until her lips grazed mine, "but maybe not right now."


	18. Chapter 18

I was straddling her, riding her hand while reaching back to thrust into her with my fingers, when the alarm went off. She groaned, more in annoyance and frustration than arousal, although she was quite aroused.

" _Non_ ," I husked at her, and jerked my head, trying to flip my tangled mass of sweaty hair out of my face. "Non, just… just a few minutes more…" I increased my pace and she groaned throatily.

"Ah, ah, shit," she exclaimed, and moved her free hand rapidly to throw a pillow at the pealing travel clock. It fell to the ground and stopped, probably broken, but we didn't care.

We both increased our rhythm, eyelids falling to half-mast, chests arching outward, grunting and breathing in time. I ground into the heel of her hand feverishly with my pubis, curling my fingers inside her, as her thumb slipped upward, pinned between us, increasing the friction on my clitoris.

"ah…" it was a tiny gasp, because I was robbed of air at that moment, spilling over the edge, falling, vibrating as the pleasure of my orgasm washed over me, and I could see and feel her bucking, too, a harsher cry erupting from her as my fingertips slipped shallower, hot fluid squirting out of her and onto my hand.

We were in a moment suspended, and then we had to breathe again. I slowly pulled out of her and rocked forward, pressing my face into her hair. Her arms weakly encircled me, and our chests moved like synchronous bellows, pulling us back to earth.

We kissed, softly, open-mouthed, wetly, and she moaned.

"Okay, I am going to be  _really_ late," she huffed, and gave me a squeeze. "Can you just, can you just make me shower and go, because I'm finding it really hard to motivate right now."

"Mm," I kissed her with lips closed this time, then gave her hip a light swat. "Think about your paycheck. I'll be here whenever you're done, or maybe we can get some dinner."

She blew out a sigh as I rolled off her, and grumpily sat up.

" _You,_ " she said accusingly, "are going to kill me."

I freshened up at the sink while she took an abbreviated shower, and watched as she struggled to tug her tight athletic clothes back over her still-moist skin, my toothbrush sticking out of her mouth.

"I really think," she suggested, hopping on one foot to pull on a shoe, "that stress meditation session would be good for you. I also think a massage or some Reiki would help work out some knots. I mean, you  _are_  here on vacation."

I laughed, flopping back down on the bed with my back propped up on the pillows, the silky robe I had pulled on falling off one shoulder and breast.

"Do I look like I have knots that need working out," I asked her, my lower lip finding its way between my teeth as I took in how cute and flustered she was.

"Hmph," she finished pulling on her shoes and opened the door. "Maybe not, but I still think it would be good for you." She tipped me a wink. "I'll be a couple, maybe three hours," she told me, sliding out into the sunlight.

"Ả bientôt," I grinned after her, as she shut the door.

I hugged myself, feeling a happy shiver. I really could barely see myself walking out of the room at all, much less going for a class or session. I decided to take a bath, dozed off for twenty minutes before I got to it, and then woke to remember my bathroom only had a shower stall. Well, that would have to do.

"Salut," I greeted the spiders and a gecko — this one a brighter green than the last — near the ceiling, and washed myself off. I didn't realize I was singing until I turned the water off.

I puttered around with a smile, humming, dressing in some light shorts and a white tank top, and got myself some water. I picked up the book I had brought with me and walked out to the porch, then remembered to spray a mist of insect repellent over me before I collapsed in the hammock. If Cosima were to ever spread honey on me, I wanted it to be for a nicer reason!

I read a bit, eyes sometimes closing, my suspended resting place swaying slowly in the breeze, occasionally looking up to see a bird fly by, or hearing an animal's call from the jungle, and the sun sinking lower, as the time moved on. I relived our recent times in bed, her bringing me food, her mischievous smile, the way she seemed to be pulled rapidly into my orbit as I was to hers, and I let my body go slack, completely relaxed in the warm, forest air.

It was the best I'd felt in years.

When I woke up, it was nearly dark. Some clouds had blown in, but it was clear that some time had passed. I shook my head groggily and rolled off the hammock, finding my feet. I stepped back into the cabin and picked up the little travel clock. It was still working, and I took a brief moment to be thankful I had used it and not my phone alarm. However, it was past six o'clock, and I really had expected Cosima to be back before then.

I turned on a lamp and drummed my fingers on the table. My stomach grumbled. I had definitely burned more calories than I had eaten. I wondered if I should go ahead to the restaurant or wait a bit longer.

I went back to the porch and looked around, noticing there was a cool breeze kicking up. I felt a little antsy standing there, still logy from my nap and wanting to get a move on. I glanced over toward Cosima's cabin, and noticed there was a faint glow in the window. Perhaps she went back there, once again being considerate of letting me sleep? I slipped on my sandals and walked over.

As I stepped up to her door, I suddenly hesitated before knocking. Something felt off.

I knocked anyway, and her voice came from within.

"Yeah?" It was muffled by the door, but also muted, low.

"Cosima," I called, the end of her name rising in a question.

There was a pause and then a shuffle, and then her door opened. She stood there, her room nearly dark behind her save for a couple candles, and she looked at me with a certain weariness, tinged with what looked like melancholy.

"Hey," she said simply.

I was concerned. I leaned closer and looked into her eyes. They did look red. Had she been crying? She didn't meet my gaze, and then I noticed her pupils were blown.

"Are you… ' _baked_ ,'" I asked her.

"Mm, well," she mumbled, "yeah, you got me on that one."

I suppose it shouldn't have surprised me, but at the same time, this was not the happy, mellow high I remembered Cosima usually slipping into with marijuana use. She seemed deflated, sluggish.

"Are you alright," I asked. "Can I come in?"

She let out a heavy sigh and paused, as if weighing the questions. Finally, she stepped back and let go of the door.

"Yeah, alright," she said and turned to walk back to where she had been sitting. She had her yoga mat and some plush pillows on the floor in a sort of nest, with some candles, a vapourizer and some notebooks. She sunk down onto the padding and laid back with her hands in her dreads. I approached carefully.

"Cosima, what is it? What's the matter?"

She squeezed her eyes shut and tears came rolling out from underneath her lids. I swiftly knelt down and put my hand on her cheek.

"Mon amour," I said softly, worriedly, "please tell me."

"I'm just…" she wiped at her face with her hands, snuffling. "I'm just having  _feelings_ , Delphine."

I looked at her for a moment, a mixture of emotions rising in me. I was nervous, worried that she was pulling away from me, that perhaps I'd done something wrong. Part of me wanted reassurance, but at the same time I wanted to help her in her distress, to comfort her and give her reassurance, myself.

"Alright, ma biche," I said, sitting down fully beside her and stroking her hair, "tell me about them. I'm here for you."

She pushed her glasses back into place, making that little shape with her mouth she always did when readjusting them, then stared at the ceiling.

"It's just—" she began, "it's just that, I come here, I work here because it's special to me. It's a place where I… learned so much about myself, did so much healing. I wanted to share that with other people, to pass it on down the line, you know? So, I always remain focused on my role… I mean, I enjoy myself, but mostly I'm here to help people, to be calm and centered and guide and listen…" She blew out a breath, and her eyes flicked quickly to mine and back again.

"But I can't focus. Like, this morning, in class, all I could think about was you. It was, uh, distracting, but it felt really good, thinking about you, about what we've been doing, here. Then the day went on and it began to… sort of overwhelm me. I mean, here's this part of my life," she made a gesture as if setting a section to one side, "where time has passed and I've grown and done the work and am, I'm  _strong_. I'm flexible, I know how to take things in as they happen and accept them, I know how to listen and pass that perspective on to my clients. But now, there's this," she shifted her hands to her other side, chopping out a second section, "and I'm twenty-nine again. You're here, and it feels so good, and I have all these  _big_ , big emotions, and then the rest of it starts to spill in: everything that happened with DYAD, the pain I went through, worrying about you and feeling rejected, just… years of running, and hiding and, and… part of me says 'yeah, I know you, I love you,' and just wants to ride on the positive wave of reconnecting. But there's another part that just realizes, like you said in your letter, we don't  _know_  each other, Delphine, not like we used to, or thought we did. You could be married with ten kids, or whatever. And you still represent everything I wanted, but also everything I gave up. My whole… career, what felt like my calling, then… my family." She took a trembling breath, her lower lip quivering, and looked at me, eyes filled with tears.

"I told Margot about you. I mean, we're close, she's like a mother to me. And I told her things over time. Not… specifics about DYAD, or cloning, but the pain I went through, how I loved you and felt so alone and got so sick. Then, sh-she could tell something was wrong with me when she saw me today, and she wanted to do some Reiki on me, and all that energy, it just, it  _exploded_  out of me. And I want to talk with you, but I also want to pretend, to act like we're in a little bubble of love where we're protected. But… we're not. If loving you and being with you like I have now is still possible, then the hurt is, too."

There was a weight in the pit of my stomach that was growing heavier. I understood everything she was saying, but I also wanted to deny it, to believe that now, with Leda and Castor and all that behind us, with the love and desire resurging strong and the wisdom time had given us, that all we had to do was believe and it would make it so, make it all work out. It was as if we were trading places, and I was the one insistent on positive thinking and accepting the good and love offered us, and now she was uncertain, out of sorts, doubtful. I thought for a moment, and took her hand, looking her straight in the eyes.

"It's always possible, hurt, as well as love," I said. "The two go together, each emphasizing the other. That's why we have to work at it, and we have to be careful." I brought her fingers to my mouth and kissed them.

"Cosima, I know we're both afraid, now. I feel it, too. But I'm willing to risk it because what we have, what we could have…  _you_  are worth it."

She closed her eyes for a moment, taking a breath and taking this in.

"Whatever you want to talk about, to work on, to do… I'm here for it. You…" I looked down, sighing, then back at her again. "You asked me not to pull away from you again, and I won't. Please don't pull away from me, either. Tell me what you want, ask me questions… I just can't lose you again."

She looked at me, and once again it seemed as though she was trying to see all the way inside of me, inside my heart and mind and soul, and be sure of what was there. It was intimidating, and heart wrenching, and it almost made me second guess, but I wouldn't let it. I just focused on our love, and how we had a chance to make it work, again. A chance not often given to anyone who had been so far apart.

"...okay," she said softly, finally. Her voice was rough and hitched a little bit, but she squeezed my hand. "I really appreciate that. I, I want to believe you, and... " she reached up and stroked my cheek softly, then cupped it. "God, how, after everything, can I trust this? And how are you here, and so amazing?"

A tear of my own made its way down to her thumb, and she brushed it away. I was smiling at her, now, but in a way that was tinged with many emotions: fear, sorrow, longing, regret, need, and love.

"You—" I began, but she cut me off by leaning up and pulling me to her for a kiss. Her lips pressed against mine softly, lingering, then a little harder, breaking the contact into a series of smaller kisses, which I sighed into and returned. After a few moments, she shifted into a sitting position and we hugged each other.

"I think we're going to have to talk," she mumbled into my shoulder. "Sadly, I think we're going to have to talk, probably more than we have sex."

I pulled back and looked at her, and her lips were pulling into an amused, gentle grin, punctuated by a few sniffles as her tears trailed off. I gave her a loving smile, my own breath hitching as I giggled.

"That's too bad," I said. "It's hard to keep my hands off you, but I'll do my best."

She chuckled and squeezed my hand again, taking it in both of her hands and holding it in her lap.

"This is going to be, like, the least silent silent retreat ever," she joked slyly, and I simply shook my head affectionately and hugged her.


	19. Chapter 19

She told me we should maintain propriety and remain silent at the restaurant, so we did, when we got there. However, she slipped out, and when she returned she was carrying another covered tray. She looked around and, finding the restaurant nearly empty and the other guests sufficiently far away, she lifted the lid with a grin. Underneath it were two nicely green salads with sandwiches and opaque glasses of… was it white wine?

She took out a small notebook from her pocket and a pen, and quickly wrote:

_It's just chicken salad, but it's good. No French white, but I found a dry reisling. I can get you better when it's just us and I have some notice._

I smiled and lightly touched her hand, pulling back before the gesture became too intimate. It was funny to feel spoiled by a chicken salad sandwich, but considering the rest of the menu, I certainly did.

Back by the cabins, I hesitated, not sure if we were staying together, going to her cabin or mine. She threw me a grin over her shoulder and tugged on my hand to continue down the path, and I complied. When we reached her cabin, she let go of me and jogged over to the porch, then came back with her backpack. She winked and took my elbow, leading past the other cabins, and into a small trail in the forest.

When we reached the treeline, she stopped, rummaged in the bag, and pulled out something. Before I knew it, she was slipping something stretchy and not particularly comfortable over my head, and one of my hands flew up to hers in confusion.

"Shhh," she giggled, and reached toward my forehead. She pressed something and with a click a light turned on, illuminating half of her face.

"A headlamp," I whispered.

"Good guess," she smirked, putting on one of her own, then tugging me by the hand again into the forest.

It was so dark and close in there I immediately felt nervous, a bit overwhelmed by the loud sounds of the frogs and insects surrounding us, the occasional rustle in the bush, but the lamp worked well and she led me down a dirt trail. We took a curve and the trees seemed more open ahead, the moon, nearly full, shining through. I heard the sounds of splashing and waves of water, and as they grew closer we came to a small gate, which she opened and led me through.

The path began to wind downward, and then we hit a landing of wood beams. She descended slowly to show me there were steps there, whispering "careful" and pressing my hand to the railing. I didn't know where she was taking me, but this was beginning to feel like some journey into a fantastical land in a children's book.

A little further, and she stopped, pulling me beside her. We were perched on an outcropping of rock, and in the light of the moon and our headlamps I could see that we had come upon a deep ravine, with a series of waterfalls on our left. It was gorgeous, and so was she, in the blue-white glow of the moon, until she turned and nearly blinded me with her headlamp.

"Sorry," she sputtered, laughing, and angling the headlamp away. I gave her a look, and she stepped up to me, touched my cheek, and kissed me softly. "Not much farther, now."

I would have gone anywhere with her at that.

We descended further on the sloping, switch-backed trail, twice passing under waterfalls, the mist cool against our faces.

At last we came to the bottom, and a small pool and river that led out from the waterfalls. We walked alongside it for a while, and then the crevasse opened up, ended, and we were on the beach, soft sand replacing dirt and roots and rocks, the moon and stars now reflecting on the endless horizon of the night-time sea.

She looked at me and smiled at my expression, then led me a little further. In between a set of large coconut palms stood a small wooden bench, worn by the elements. She placed a soft, thick, cotton throw over it, and we sat down together. She turned off her lamp and I copied her, finding I could see quite well here in the natural glow, taking in the susurrus of the ever-lapping ocean, the tang of salt and marine life on the air. She took my hand again, and nudged me with her shoulder.

"What do you think," she asked, her voice no longer a whisper, but still soft over the swish of water on sand. I looked at her, her eyes lit by affection, and the delight in being able to surprise me with this, and I shook my head slightly.

"C'est si beau. Tu es si belle. Tout…"

Even my own language was failing me. My eyes dipped to her lips and and her smile turned more intimate, almost pouty. I leaned down and gave her a long, slow kiss.

"Hmmmm," she hummed, and ran a hand through my hair. "So romantic. But I really brought you here because I thought it would be a nice place to talk."

I probably pouted a bit at that, myself, slow to draw back away from her mouth, and she chuckled.

"Okay," I finally said, turning my body more towards her. "Let's talk."

She tapped her hands on her knees.

"Well. I was thinking we could go quid pro quo. One of us asks a question, the other one answers, and the first one has to answer, too. Then the second one can ask their own question."

"That sounds… needlessly complicated, but alright," I acquiesced. "You first."

"Okay, yeah," she said, then after a brief pause, "you said you're working as a professor. Where are you located?"

"Yale," I answered easily, "and you?"

"Well, I still travel a lot, teaching classes like this, and stuff. I was keeping away from my old haunts like the Bay Area because I didn't want to be found by, you know,  _them_ ," I nodded in understanding, "but I do have a place I stay in Woodstock, and a small cabin I timeshare up on Cape Cod."

"So, New York and Massachusetts, then." I couldn't help my smile. "Not so far, yes?"

"Yes, a bit under three hours to Woodstock and like, maybe over four to Truro," she smiled softly, then looked down for the moment. "But… like I said, I do travel."

"Do you still think, as you said when we met, that long distance never works," I asked her, not sure how to take the shift in her gaze.

"Oh my God, wait," she paused and then laughed. "Did I say that? About, about your nonexistent boyfriend?"

I gave her a look.

"You most certainly did."

"Oh, man. What a little player," she chuckled, then tilted her head. "Were you really sitting there arguing with no-one, or was there someone helping you on the other end?"

"There was no-one," I admitted, "but I based it on a break up I had had with a boyfriend some time before."

"Hmm, Method acting, then," she smirked. "Honestly, that's probably the best acting you ever did. Took me a while to figure out it must've been bullshit."

""Well, maybe the best I did in front of you," I sighed. "Lying to you was never easy for me. But I did have to act with others when I took over the directorship of DYAD." We both quieted then. "You know, that's one reason why I had to do it. To… break up with you."

Our countenances were both more serious, sad. She swallowed.

"Yeah," she murmured, and there was a pause.

"Hey," I said, and stroked her cheek.

"I know," she nodded. She looked at the water for a moment, then back at me.

"So how'd you—"

"Ah, ah, ah," I interrupted, "isn't it my turn to ask a question, now?"

"Huh," she chuckled. "Okay, shoot."

"Would you visit me, in New Haven? Would you allow me to visit you?"

Her gaze returned to my eyes again, and connected.

"Yes," she answered, "definitely," and we grasped each other's hands for a moment. Then she freed one hand to push her glasses up her nose, got a curious look in her eye, and once again tilted her head.

""So, are you single right now, or attached to anyone?"

I wanted to kiss her in answer, but I settled again for speaking.

"Yes, I am single. Not attached to anyone. Not even dating." I stroked her hand with my thumb. "But I hope that I am now, or at least will be, very soon."

Her Cosima grin flashed blue-white like the stars, and it made my stomach flutter.

"Alright, I'll answer, now," she said. "I'm not dating anyone, either. I mean, I haven't been for a couple months, and then nothing serious. I'm not… well, I guess you could say I'm attached to some people, but not romantically, not like that."

Her long-winded, qualifying response amused me, and I'm sure I was grinning, myself. I shifted my hand and interlaced my fingers with hers.

"Now you," she nudged me, and I realized I had to ask a question.

"Who are the people you're attached to? Are you still in touch with your sisters?"

"Ah, um, yes. I talk with them now and then, mostly Sarah. We don't talk for long periods of time and we respect each other's desire to have… simpler lives, but we have a good relationship, when we do." She hesitated, and I cocked an eyebrow. She cleared her throat.

"I'm not gonna nitpick that that was two questions, 'cause… okay, I have something to tell you."

My brow was furrowed. I was worried by the serious tone and expression she then had.

"Yes," I asked. She blew out a breath and looked back into my eyes once again.

"I have a kid."

I don't know what I expected her to say, but it wasn't that.

"What," I exhaled.

"I have a kid. Here." She turned and reached into her bag, then pulled out a cell phone.

"I brought one, too, ya see," she teased me lightly, "but I'm going somewhere you can get a signal after this."

I couldn't say anything. I held my breath.

She tapped at the phone and finally angled it toward me in her hands. There was a small child, a boy, I thought, maybe five or six years of age. He had wavy chestnut hair under a baseball cap, and a t-shirt bearing the table of the elements. His eyes were darker than hers, a deeper brown, but his smile was so much hers, down to the little tongue protruding between the teeth.

"That's Sevvy, Severo," she nodded as I took the phone without even realizing it to bring it closer. "He lives in Woodstock. He's pretty amazing."

My mouth gaped open and closed a few times, then I turned to her.

"Is he…" I started. "He looks like you."

"Yeah, he's half mine, genetically speaking. I also gave birth to him."

My hand flew to my mouth, and I knew my eyes were welling up. She watched me, eyes scanning my face.

"Cosima," I finally managed, "how?"

She took the phone back and touched his little face on the screen.

"About a year and a half after I cured myself, I started to ovulate. I never expected it," she told me softly, "I mean, I stopped getting my period at nineteen, and it had always been weird. I figured after everything…" She sighed.

"Of course I went for a bunch of tests, and it came back that I was fertile, and my uterus was barely scarred. I mean, that gene therapy kicked those tumours' asses."

I was still holding my mouth, but a tear had escaped and made its way down my face.

"It opened up… a whole lot of feelings for me, and obviously some options. I never thought I'd have a kid. I was okay with it. I really got along with Kira and some of my friends' children, but, it wasn't exactly high on my list, you know?"

I nodded, my eyes wide, just taking it in.

"And then I had these friends, Michael and Teo, and they really wanted to have a kid. So, we talked about it, and gave it a try… and now Sevvy has two daddies, and one kind of part-time, visiting mommy."

I was dumbstruck. Sarah and Helena had been the exceptions, the anomalies. Only they evaded the clone disease and could reproduce. Cosima had not only cured the disease, but she had turned back the symptoms and consequences. It seemed part science, part miracle.

But Cosima was like that. She was a bit of each, herself.

"Hey," she said softly, and touched my knee, "are you still here with me? Do you want me to—"

"Are you happy," I blurted.

"Am I happy?"

"Yes." I gripped her wrist. "Are you happy having a child? Your, your son?"

She looked at me for a long moment, searchingly. Then she said:

"Yes, yes I'm happy. I love my son, and I love my friends who are his dads. I haven't always been able to be around them, because of… safety reasons, DYAD, you know? But… but I'm hoping I can see them more, now." Her eyes were deep and dark, pools of emotion. "We make a pretty awesome family," she finished.

I threw my arms around her neck and pulled her to me, hugging her, whispering her name in her ear.

"I'm happy for you, Cosima," I told her, directly, truthfully. "I'm so happy for you. It's amazing."

She wrapped her arms around me and squeezed me back, pressing her face into my neck and inhaling for a moment, and then letting out a small scoff of a chuckle.

"I felt pretty sure you'd be asking me about the scientific aspects," she said, and I could tell her mouth was twisted in a smirk from her voice. I pulled back so I could see her, and held her face in my hands.

"You know me well enough; of course I'm interested, fascinated."

"Are you wondering what this could mean for other clones, for other forms of infertility, too?"

"Of course that could be something amazing to learn about in the future," I acknowledged, "but what I was going to say is, you know me but I  _have_  changed. I know now that none of that is my business unless you decide to share it with me, that the important thing is your and his health, safety and happiness, and that whatever happens to that little boy is entirely up to you, his fathers and himself."

She looked at me with such intensity, disbelief, then fear relieved, slowly blossoming into acceptance, gratitude and tenderness, that I felt as though I was falling into her eyes, and she into mine. I held her face in my hands and I kissed her, and she kissed me back, and we kissed each other, incredulous, over and over, as our tears streamed and mingled.

"I don't know if this is a dream, but I love you," she said. "I love you so much."

"It has to be real," I reassured her, "I couldn't even dream of loving someone this much."

We stayed there, holding each other, looking at more pictures of her son and his fathers, one of the little boy cuddled up to her on a couch, merged with each other in warm, sleepy bliss. My emotions were running so high that they began to exhaust me, and I could tell that she felt the same. After a while, we got up and worked our way back to the stairs, again holding hands. I thought the hike back to the cabins might seem long and tiring, but it was dreamy, really; the light of the moon flickering in and out between the trees, the song of the night creatures. I was briefly revived by the mist of the waterfalls, and then, dazed by the events and my thoughts, we arrived back at the cabins.

Cosima paused on the path and turned to face me, taking both my hands.

"Would you like to spend the night with me," she queried softly.

"Yes," I answered, with no hesitation.

Her expression became slightly playful.

"My place or yours," she offered, "I've got more pillows, but of course your place is less cluttered…"

"I don't care," I said, giving her a kiss. "I just want to be with you tonight. Take me to your cabin, if that's where you're comfortable."

She smiled gently and led me in. She paused in the darkness and lit a candle near the door, placing it on the nightstand, and we quietly kissed, removing each other's clothing slowly, tenderly. She went into the bathroom for a few minutes, and I leaned against the bedpost, not really thinking in words, just breathing in her things and her space and  _her._  She came out bearing a toothbrush for me, and we kissed again as I passed her to go wash up. When I was done, she was in the bed, the covers pulled back for me, and she held out her arms. I slid in and against her, and we held each other closely, just breathing, occasionally kissing a temple, or a shoulder, or a cheek. She leaned back and blew out the candle, and it became quite dark, so dark that I couldn't have seen my hand before my face. But she pressed back against me and kissed my lips, and I felt secure, loved and safe. When I fell asleep it was in her arms, our legs entangled, and her breath slowing and deepening beside me.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little notice: I want to thank you all again for reading, and let you know that I'll be going away next week for three weeks. I'm going to try to get the rest of this story posted before then, so more chapters will be coming soon!

The next morning I awoke to a note on the pillow beside me, reading,

_Alright, Cormier, you're turning into one of those sloths, AND skipping my classes, which, are you trying to insult me? Anyway, I booked a massage session for you with Chanthira at 8:30. She's gonna knock your socks off._

_I have some stuff to do, but I was wondering if you would join me for an early dinner tonight? If you want to, meet me at the dock at 3:30. If you can't do it, just tel_ _l_ _Yvelis at the front desk of the restaurant, or pop into the main office and let whoever's there know._

_Hey, have a good day. I love you._

Seeing those last three words in her quirky handwriting gave me a thrill, and I felt like I could smile all day. I imagined her, also, smiling as she wrote them, and the image in my mind gave my heart a squeeze.

After cleaning up, I decided to walk over to the restaurant to get something light in my stomach before my massage. The place was fairly empty at that time, so I took a table by myself where I could take in the view of the water. After putting down my bag — which I really didn't need, but I still felt odd without carrying something — I walked over to the buffet tables and got a plate of fruit and some soy yogurt, as well as a cup of coffee, and carried it back to my seat. I was combining the fruit and yogurt in my bowl when someone reached in front of me and took my water glass, filling it with a pitcher. I turned to see an older man with an honest, wrinkled smile below a neat mustache. I remembered just in time not to say thank you, but nodded with a smile, instead. He held up a finger, picked up something else from his tray, and place it in front of me. It was a perfect, frothy cortado with real milk. He gave me a wink before I could fully react, and slipped off. I savoured that espresso drink slowly as I watched the birds in the trees and over the water, feeling special and cared for.

I felt a clash of the old and new Delphines as I contemplated my massage to come. The old Delphine, as I was thinking of myself before my reunion with Cosima, was skeptical and nervous. While I had gotten massages before at spas and such, they never were a huge draw for me. It wasn't a problem with human contact. I craved it, like most people, in certain circumstances. I enjoyed holding hands with or exchanging kisses of greeting with friends or lovers, and grew to enjoy the American way of hugging, but not with just anyone. Part of me preferred to keep things polite and professional when I didn't really know a person, and a lot of that had to do with how I was raised, but everything I had been through with Topside and the military had changed me, made me develop a need for safe distance, for control. I had developed what sometimes felt like armour, and others a supporting exoskeleton, which could be strong or brittle, depending on the situation. I had gone from being ambitious to just wanting to ensure the survival of those I loved, those I swore to protect, and myself. Knowing what bodily and emotional pain humans would willingly inflict on others firsthand made me wary. The idea of allowing a stranger who was not a medical professional I had vetted touch my body extensively seemed strange and possibly dangerous, and this wasn't just a fear of physical pain or manipulation. To be touched is to be known in a different way, to allow someone to feel the signals your body gives despite yourself. Pulses quickening, pressing closer, trembles or jerking away, all belie things we may be able to cover up at a distance. More than that, touch brings awareness of oneself, one's own desires and vulnerabilities. It opens the dam to emotions one has tucked away inside, behind the shiny, social shell. Although I had relaxed over the years since I had been in the belly of the beast, I was still on guard a little bit, against others and myself.

The new Delphine, however, the one who had just shared Cosima's bed and whispers and words of love, was relaxed and less guarded. I wanted to be open to new experiences, to the possibility of good from others and around every corner, to allow myself connections like Cosima did, to believe that a world that had given her back to me had to be one that gave at least as much good as it did bad, at least as much love as it did fear. I had come close, with a few other lovers, but no-one had this effect on me, of joyful expansion and opening up, as Cosima did. From the very first moment, she had touched me without even physically touching me, and when she did press her skin to mine, my whole being vibrated. I'd never loved or been loved by anyone else quite like that, and in its absence, many things seemed too intimate to share with others, almost a parody of real contact. Now that I had her back, my heart and body opened to exchanging with others and experiencing new things. Touch could be healing, and this massage came from her as a gift to me. How could I not welcome it?

I stopped in the office to check on the location of my appointment. The young woman at the desk seemed like any other casual hospitality representative, in her crisp, green polo shirt emblazoned with the name of the resort, but there was a comically large wooden frog statue with the same instrumental teeth as the small noisemakers the retreat staff carried and an attached mallet, almost as if it were the high chief of the smaller frogs, propped up on the desk.  _Sound the frog to speak,_  read a plaque beneath it,  _(Tocar la rana para hablar,)_ and then, beneath it, on a small strip of yellow paper taped to it,  _You know you want to._ The handwriting on it was both faded with age and in a familiar, curving script that made me grin all over again, recognizing Cosima's continual brand of mischief.

I grabbed the mallet and gave the frog a light tap. The woman behind the desk smiled at me.

"Buenos dias, how may I help you," she asked.

"I had a massage scheduled for me, and I don't know where to go," I informed her. "The last name is Cormier, C-O-R—"

"M-I-E-R," came a voice from the back, and Margot stepped out. "Good morning, Dr. Cormier. I believe you're booked with Chanthira at the overlook. You can't get much better than that."

Her eyes crinkled charmingly with her smile, but I found myself a bit taken aback. She seemed amicable, but in the lines of her face, her rooted stance and her well-worn hands on her hips, she had a certain strength about her that brought my mind back to Siobhan Sadler. She was stout and squared with short, salt-and-pepper hair, where the other woman had maintained a sort of deadly, underground glamour about her, but the overall feeling she gave me was that of a gentle, tamed mama bear. She was someone who seemed wise and kind, but powerful. I could see why Cosima might have gravitated to her as a mother figure. Surely I could imagine her being the kind of person one might seek out for care and protection.

What that meant for me, though, as Cosima's long-ago ex with the dramatic past returned, I didn't know. That's what got me a little bit nervous.

"Oh, good morning," was all I thought of, and it was a bit delayed at that.

"I haven't had the pleasure of seeing you around much," she noted, still bearing that smile. "How are you enjoying your stay with us? You can be honest." She tilted her head very like Cosima at that, and winked.

"It really is wonderful," I managed. "Such a beautiful setting, and so many things to do." She continued to look at me as if she expected more of an answer, so I took a breath, feeling compelled to be more forthcoming.

"This trip was actually given to me by a friend," I told her. "I really have never done anything like it before. The quiet, the isolated area, and all the things like meditation and yoga and alternative therapies… I think I may have been a bit overwhelmed. But," I qualified, and I hoped my voice could convey to depth of my feeling, "I am so grateful I got to come here, to… to renew some things I thought I'd lost, wasted, in the past. I… don't think I can describe how important and wonderful that has been."

She gave a slow nod, expression not changing. I felt she understood what I meant to say, that being with Cosima again was a miracle, a gift, one that I intended to treat with care and respect. Still, she maintained the mien of a den mother and hospitable host.

"That's lovely," she said. "Being here can really have a cumulative effect, too. You can open up your mind to experiences both new and old, and it can be very revealing, very healing. I hope you'll try some of our other classes and sessions. Cosima tells me she thinks Reiki could be great for you."

I felt almost as though I'd tripped at the mention of her name, although I was standing still. I really wasn't sure what to say. Margot took in my hesitation and turned to the young woman at the desk.

"Marcela, I can give Dr. Cormier directions. Could you run back and get the keys to the equipment room from Dan for me?"

The woman nodded and slipped out, leaving just the two of us.

"So…" I finally said. "Perhaps I should try this Reiki? I'm not very familiar with it."

"Oh, well, Cosima could give you the whole rundown — she's attuned as a master, you know, though she'll never mention it — but basically it's a way of clearing blockages and encouraging the healthy flow of ki, the life energy. It's very gentle, not at all invasive. If you are trying to process some things from your past, as you said, it could be helpful for you."

This was definitely out of my comfort zone. Massaging my muscles was one thing, but as a scientist I'd often limited my thinking on "life energy" to the biochemical, electrical impulses that govern survival.  _But,_  I reminded myself,  _you're trying to see things from Cosima's perspective, be open to her world._ Perhaps this was something I should try, at least as an act of good faith.

"Do… you do Reiki," I asked Margot, stepping a bit closer to her. She chuckled.

"Oh, yeah. Who do you think trained Cosima? But," she cocked her head, her expression growing a bit more overtly thoughtful, serious. "As much as I'd like to assist you, I'm not sure it would be completely appropriate, since you and she have been seeing each other. Not without knowing that's what you both wanted." She smiled again, reassuringly. "It's kind of like the doctor-patient or therapist-client relationship. Personal things can come up, and sharing that kind of stuff has its limits."

I was, perhaps, even more nonplussed than before.

"'Personal things,'" I asked.

"Yes. It works on a spiritual level, especially if people allow themselves to be open to it," she nodded. "It can be light or it can be profound, depending on what the path the recipient is on. It's never harmful, but it can bring up things you may have been holding inside. Some people cry, some people share things verbally, others just go with the flow. No judgements, just, if we're being honest, here, which I like to do," she winked again, "not necessarily stuff someone you're seeing might want someone she calls Mama Margot, sometimes, to get involved with."

I nodded, and bit my lip. She was being completely open about her knowledge of Cosima's and my relationship, of her role as a friend, caretaker and confidant to Cosima, and her knowledge that there was a complicated past between us. She was also showing me that she was respecting our boundaries, even as it was clear how influential her input could be. It could be taken as both warning and reassurance, understanding and protective evaluation, and if I went with my experiences in the past, if I let the old Delphine judge, I might feel threatened, either bristling with determination to win Cosima over, or despair that another person could, willfully or not, easily come between us.

I chose the new Delphine. Or perhaps she was a younger version of me, from even further in the past, re-emerging, blinking in the light.

"I understand," I told the older woman softly. "I love her, you know."

She gazed at me for a moment and then nodded, herself.

"I believe it," she said, then, after a beat, switched back to a smile. "Fortunately for you, Chanthira is a Reiki practitioner, too. Just tell her I asked her to throw some in with your session today, if you want to."

I met her gaze, feeling somehow more settled.

"Alright," I answered.

"Now, if you're gonna get there on time, you'd better head out. Take the main path down towards the docks, but hang a left at the wooden sign that says 'the Overlook.' Carry on a little ways, and you can't miss it. Third and last hut should be yours."

She gave me another smile, squinting a bit into the sunshine coming through the door, and I knew I was being dismissed, or let go to proceed, for the moment.

"Thank you," I said, then, in a strange compulsion, I found myself pressing my hands together as if in prayer and touching them to my chest and forehead like I had seen the others do so many times, now. It felt unexpectedly natural.

"Namaste," I said, "and please call me Delphine."

"Namaste, Delphine," she answered, and somehow I knew I'd done something right.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the lovely comments. :)

The massage hut was right where she directed me, an odd little structure with one area entirely open to the outside on two walls, save large curtains made of mosquito netting, and the rest seeming to be small enclosed rooms with only small, high screen windows. I stood for a moment, taking in the view the huts faced, a somewhat lower one down the hill to the beach, raised on a small bluff and encompassing a wider swath of sand and sea. After appreciating and breathing in the salty breeze for a bit, I turned around and wondered where I was to enter, the curtain or the door. There didn't seem to be anyone moving behind the curtain, so I knocked on the door.

It was open almost immediately by a pleasant-looking woman who gave me a peaceful smile and nod with her hands clasped before her in the prayer position. She did not say "namaste," but merely stepped back from the door with a graceful hand gesture to lead me in.

At the door there was a small rack, and a sign in several languages asking visitors to remove their shoes. I did so, and then, again with a small nod, the woman led me down the small hallway. We entered a room with a desk and some chairs, all in simple, natural tones, and she gestured for me to sit. When I did so, she reached over toward a small frog statue, not carved in wood like the others, but wrought in what looked to be brass and bronze. She picked up a wooden rod and tapped it gently so it made a sound, not the dull tapping-rasp of the other noisemakers, but a clear ringing tone, similar to the bell Cosima had used before her classes. It filled the room, and I found I felt a small release of tension, as if I had been slightly nervous and hadn't realized it.

"Welcome," she said, a light south Asian accent to her voice, "I'm Chanthira. I'm going to give you some papers to fill out that will help me in my treatment of you. Once you're done with that, I'm going to ask you a few questions to determine what modalities we'll try today. Do you have any questions or thoughts?"

"Em, I'm Delphine, pleased to meet you," I answered. "By different modalities, do you mean different types of massage?" She nodded again.

"Yes, I practice a range of body-centered therapies, and each session is tailored to the individual and their needs at that time." This sounded interesting.

"So, like Swedish, or hot rock, with aromatherapy, and things like that," I enquired, thinking back to the brochures of the few spas I'd visited.

"Yes, they may include that. My education began with traditional Thai massage, but I am also trained in other types, like Shiatsu, Deep Tissue, Cranio-sacral, Trager, Rolfing, Watsu and Reiki/Healing Hands techniques."

A few of these things I had heard of, but most of them were unfamiliar, except the last.

"Mm, Cosima and Margot both suggested I try Reiki," I informed her. She took this in with another small bow of her head and a slow blink.

"Alright, Delphine. Here are the information forms. I will step into the other room, and once you're done with them, we can arrive on a plan."

I gave her a small smile as she exited. This was certainly more involved than I'd expected it would be, but she gave the impression of a certain gracefulness, a demeanor that was both peaceful and professional, caring, without being overly invasive.

The forms, I was interested to find, included a lot of medical and health questions, not just asking about current pains, injuries and disabilities, but including previous conditions, allergies, treatments and surgeries I may have had, daily activities and psychological therapies. My eyebrows raised at some of these, but I did my best to fill them out. I kept abreast of my health and was well-versed in medical paperwork, after all, but there were certain parts of my life that had been kept deeply secret, and it always gave me pause to have to sort through them in my memory for information I should or could share.

I finished writing and sat for a moment, wondering if I should get up or wait, when, as if she had heard my thoughts, she appeared in the door.

"Thank you," she said, taking the papers. "I will show you to a changing room, where you will find a plain cotton top and shorts. Please put them on, removing any undergarments, and I will show you to the treatment room."

I followed her instructions, finding the clothes she'd laid out for me were loose, light and comfortable. I'd expected to strip nude or down to my underwear, so this was another surprise.

When I exited, she was waiting for me. She led me into the larger, airy room I had noted from outside that had two open sides, and stopped.

"Just a little bit more before we get started," she said. "may I see you walk from here to the far wall?"

I nodded. This was beginning to seem like much more like a physical therapy session than a relaxing massage, but I went with it. I walked to the far wall, slightly self-conscious, and turned around.

"Good, thank you," she said. "Please turn to your left." I did so. "Now your right." I turned again. "Good, now back to me."

When I arrived back in front of her, she gave me a small, calm, reassuring smile.

"From what you have written and I see, you have maintained your body with exercise and good nutrition. Am I right in guessing sometimes you lack in sleep?"

I nodded. That wasn't unusual, these days, was it?

"You seem sound, fairly balanced, and fairly relaxed, in this environment. I'm going to use a variety of techniques on you today, mostly to adjust imbalances and tensions from your daily life, and some which I see you have held from your past."

I must have blinked at this. What did she see? Had Cosima or Margot told her anything about me?

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ask you a lot of invasive questions. We're focusing on your energy as translated through your body. If you have any questions, wishes, or want me to stop or explain anything at any time, please tell me. I am here to work with you to help you release tension and heal, and your input and participation are most welcome."

Her slightly formal way of speaking made me feel a bit more trusting, I think. Perhaps it was because, like me, English was not her first language, or she came across as professional, but I accepted.

When I look back on the session now, I wonder where it started, the way she reached inside and opened me. Perhaps it was as soon as I had entered, although, at the time, the beginning seemed simple enough. I lay on my back on a padded mat on the floor, my knees over a bolster, and she knelt at the crown of my head and laid her hands on my shoulders, present and warm. She made small movements and adjustments. Her hands cupped my face and lay over my eyes, then cupped under my head, moving it slowly into different angles and directions. Her fingers slid down the back of my neck and under my shoulders, and seemed to barely move, to pulse, and yet I felt the weight of my body sinking into the pad with gravity, my breaths coming slower. I felt her rocking me, gently, side to side, almost absently, as if the floor had turned into a hammock, a cradle.

After a few moments, she began what seemed more like massage. Her hands stroked in waves down my face, chest and arms. She adjusted and moved her fingers in slow, deep circles on my abdomen, then she moved down my legs. She did different things, kneading, pressing, pulling, and I wasn't sure what it all meant but it flowed, it felt good. My eyes were closed, my brain seeming to sink further inward, down, at peace, dark.

Over time, she circled me. She worked on my back in similar ways. She also took my limbs and bent them, using her whole body to adjust them to certain angles, to stretch them into slow elongations, like I was growing looser, longer. My back and torso, also, she manipulated, seeming to almost separate my shoulders from their sockets, my sacrum and pelvis from my spine above in the most delicious of ways. She gently worked my fingers and toes, and used my weight and hers to apply pressure to areas I had not realized were already tender.

Occasionally she would ask if I was comfortable, or for me to reposition, and I followed her instructions without feeling as though I was being manipulated. I wasn't sure how she touched and moved so many parts of my body without seeming as jarring or invasive as a regular massage I would get at a day spa, or a routine medical exam. I would have been impressed if I hadn't slipped into some calm, altered, near-sleep-like state.

She was slowly running her hands just above the surface of my skin, near the end. I felt the heat of her hands, but no touch. My temples throbbed slightly as her palms hovered near them, my jaw clenched and relaxed as they moved down. Then, her hands slipped down over my throat and chest, and she stopped. She held them there, and I felt some slightly uncomfortable shifting, like a tingle, like I was fighting for breath, even though my respiratory rhythm was sound. And then I swallowed, and a sigh emerged from me.

"Right there," she said. "Very good."

There were tears in my eyes before I knew it, slipping hot under my lids, a welling in my throat and chest. My body shifted uncomfortably, and I felt something, a loss, a surrender, a deep sadness rushing outward from a place I thought it had been long contained, dark, frozen, or dead.

So much came to mind, like pieces of film rolling backwards. Cosima and I arguing in the forest, my journey to this place, random snatches of long and listless days at work, breakups with lovers that were sad, yet did not seem to fully touch me.

I gasped, and I was back on the military base, in the labs, powerless. I was back at DYAD, flashing through dark agreements, pain inflicted. I was in the hallway outside Felix's apartment, with Cosima, and she was breaking, I was breaking her, but she was turning to close the door behind her before she could, and then I was breaking, myself, against it.

I was staring at the cold, ravaged body of Jennifer Fitzimmons on the autopsy table. I was seeing the blood at the corner of Cosima's mouth. I was seeing her beneath me, naked, eyes wide in wonder and trust as I touched her, learned her body as she had been exploring mine. She gave herself to me as I had, for a few uncontrollable moments, given myself to her, despite the chances that I might never be able to take myself back fully again.

I sobbed.

Chanthira said nothing. She laid her hands softly over my shoulders and let me cry. I'm not sure how long it lasted, but I felt wails ripped from me, my diaphragm contracting and my body curving around myself. I felt my hands reach for my face and her gently divert them, touching my temples and lightly dabbing at my cheeks and nose with a soft cloth as necessary.

My breaths became less harsh. My eyes were still closed, when she moved to my side and touched my hand.

"Come," she said, and I rose to my feet with her, unsteadily. "There is one more thing I would like to try today. I think it will help you."

I nodded, speechless, and she guided me through the mosquito curtains and two steps down to the ground outside, again. The light was a bit bright in my eyes, and I squinted, lashes wet, but she steadily led me down a small path that became shaded, the flat stones and dirt cool beneath my feet. We passed a low, curved wall and arrived at a small pool, not very deep, the water clear to the blue flooring below. She stepped in and walked forward, immersing herself to the waist, then turned back you me.

"Come," she said, again, and spread her palms. I found myself moving toward her.

"Lie back, I will support you," she said, and when I tilted back toward the water I felt a distant spike of panic, the doubter within me that said "what are we doing? I didn't agree to this. This is strange. What does she intend?"

And then I was floating, suspended on my back with one of her arms under my neck, and she was asking me to release.

I can't really say how long we were there. It felt like hours, but it couldn't have been, I would realize, when I had returned to my cabin. She moved me gently in the warm water, and while my intellect realized, at a distance, that this weightlessness eased my body, was reminiscent of the womb, the rest of me just gave in. My tears still came, but more slowly, as she adjusted me lightly, bent my back and limbs, briefly held my nose closed and dunked me down. The idea of cleansing and baptism as a ritual, symbolic and psychosocial tradition came to me, but it moved through easily, without generating defensiveness, skepticism, the expectation of being taken in. She murmured questions and directions to me now and then, but I can't recall what they all were. Just that I lost myself, my pain, my track of time, in the water, and then I slowly came back into myself and she eased me up until I was standing, and walked me back to the edge of the pool.

"How do you feel," she asked.

"Tired," I said, thickly. "Looser. Grateful, but like I've run forever… can I be… unsure and relaxed? Is it… acceptance of fear?"

"Perhaps," she said. "Take your time. You don't have to solve it all at once. It's a beautiful day."

I followed her gaze to the sky, and it was true. A few lazy, puffy, white clouds tracked beside the sun, the glare eased by the green-shadow filter of palm fronds overhead.

We left the pool, and she gave me a long, soft towel to dry with. I followed her back to the hut, and she gave me a last bow of her head and clasp of her hands.

"There is water for you in the dressing room. It's been a pleasure. Take your time, Delphine. Be well."

I found myself in the changing room, distracted, halfway into putting on my sandals again. I was outside and blinking, then back near my cabin, before,  _merde,_  I thought, I  _forgot to tip her._ I was still in a daze, though, and I'd entered the dimmer, slightly cooler air of my cabin before I knew it. I dropped my bag. There was a swish in my other hand and I realized I still had the water bottle, two-thirds empty. I downed the rest without thinking, walked to the bed, and flopped down onto it, face down. Everything went quiet.

When I woke, it was to the sensation of a gentle presence near me. I opened my eyes, and Cosima was beside the bed, looking at me with tender concern. It was way darker in the room than it had been.

"Are you alright," she asked softly.

"I… yes," I managed, and then my eyes widened and I jerked up my head. "I was supposed to meet you! Am I late," I exclaimed.

"Shh, yeah, it's okay," she reassured me, and gently stroked my hair until I relaxed my neck back onto the pillow. "I was a little worried, but then I realized you could be really knocked out after a good session, and here you are."

She sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers still soft in my hair, her voice low.

"I brought you some food," she said, "and more water. I don't know if you want to wash up, or whatever, but let's get you out of your clothes."

I nodded, groggy, eyes still sliding closed and half-open, again. She undressed me as if I were a sleepy child, guiding me to raise my arms over my head, lift my hips. I sat on the edge of the bed for a moment in a daze, then got an urge and rose to shuffle into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth and washed my face and she handed me a towel to dry it with. I walked slowly, slightly less asleep, back to the bed and lay down. She sat beside me again, and I took her hand.

"I'm sorry," I said.

"It's okay, I understand," she said, then tilted her head. "You don't need to apologize all the time, Delphine. I know why you want to, but…" she shook her head, very slightly. "Just rest. I'll leave the food in its container on the table, and I'll see you in the morning, okay?"

I nodded. It's funny, I didn't think to ask if she wanted to stay with me in the bed, to even think if that was what I wanted. I fumbled with her hand and pulled it to my lips, laying a brush of a kiss on her palm. Then I rolled over, and fell back asleep.


	22. Chapter 22

I woke up once. I was disoriented. I felt as though I had been struggling, wrestling with my dreams as I slept.

All I could see was the faint glow of the hands of my travel clock. Two a.m. I reached out and fumbled on my nightstand until I found my lantern. I turned it on.

It was quiet, if you can call the sounds of thousands of insects and frogs quiet. Really, it only blended together into a sort of thrumming background noise to me. I was ravenous.

I opened the food container. Inside I found what turned out to be a veggie burger and a salad. I ate it all, and downed the bottles of water and coconut juice I found beside it. I breathed out a sigh, feeling my hunger satiated, and immediately felt tired again. Once I lay back down, I quickly fell back asleep.

I woke a second time. There was a dim light coming through the half-parted shutters, and the sound of a steady rain on the leaves outside. I stumbled into the bathroom, relieved myself, and washed my hands and face. I brushed my teeth again with bottled water. I returned to the main room and stood at the window for a moment, watching the rain and mist make a whitish-grey mass of the morning air, the view of the water obscured, the leaves of the trees and plants shining and dipping when hit by drops from above. I heard the call of a macaw out in the forest, then another, and wondered how they felt about the rain. I left the shutters open and laid back in the bed, letting myself become mesmerized by the constant pour of the rain, the brush of cool air that blew in through the window now and then and stirring the mosquito netting. My eyelids closed.

When I awoke the third time, there was birdsong.

I opened my eyes and sat up, and the sun was shining. It still looked like morning, just later on. I felt refreshed, slightly tender, as though I'd awakened into a brighter world than I'd expected, not just in terms of the sunshine, but in its very hues and saturation, the mildly humid but pleasant feel of the air, and the sounds of birds and breezes much more noticeable without the rain to drown them. I stretched, yawning broadly, in a way that felt satisfying, and I heard a little noise, the small thunk of something hard hitting wood boards out on my porch.

I grabbed the tank top on the chair by the bed and pulled it on, then walked to the door. It was slightly open.

There, beyond the screen, was Cosima, sitting in one of the chairs on the porch, pulled up to the surrounding wall to tilt back and prop her bare feet up. She wore a colourful sarong-type skirt, an anklet, another one of her cropped tank tops. Her hair was up off her neck and her glasses on, as she turned the page of a book. There was a coffee mug on the small table beside her, and I recognized that setting it down was what must have made the sound I heard.

I admired her, sitting there, unguarded, the fine curves of her silhouette and the dip from her nose to her lips — slightly pouting in concentration — the angle of her chin. She seemed engrossed, and I felt myself inordinately charmed, warmed and doting, watching the flexing of her fine fingers, her strong hands as she held the book with one, raising the other to press idly at a slightly loose dreadlock atop her head. I felt as though I could see her thinking, feel and hear it like a hum in the air, and I knew the workings of her mind were intricate, vast and beautiful. How could just looking at someone being themselves fill me with such feeling, both yearning and satisfaction?  _Love,_  I thought to myself,  _nothing but love, pure and powerful and so hard to explain._

My lips were smiling of their own accord as I cleared my throat so as not to startle her. She turned her head and grinned when she saw me.

"Hey," she said, and eased the chair legs back to the ground, twisting her torso my way. "Good morning."

"Bonjour," I answered, and watched her smile creep upward as I caught her gaze. I pushed the screen and door open and padded to her, still in just my top and underwear. I couldn't resist. I bent down and wrapped my arms around her ribs, pressing my face into her hair, then her neck, kissing it, breathing her in. She put the book down in her lap and returned my embrace.

"Hi, sleepyhead. How are you feeling?"

I hummed, brushing my cheek against her ear, then leaned back a bit.

"I'm good. Just waking up, and happy you're here. How are you?"

"I'm good, too," she grinned back. "Do you want to take a seat? I've got a thermos of coffee."

"Mm, yes," I nodded, but instead of getting the other chair I slid into her lap, sideways, arms around her shoulders.

"Hi," she said again, as my nose touched hers.

"Hi," I answered, and we kissed. It was like oxygen to my lungs. It soothed me and woke me up further.

"I guess you got the whammy, yesterday," she ventured. "That can happen when you have a deep session. How do you feel?"

I pursed my lips slightly, thinking. Part of me felt loose and cozy, as if a weight had been dropped from my shoulders, but there was some hesitancy there, something thick behind my forehead and in my stomach, lingering.

"Mostly good," I answered, "but a bit, almost, hungover, to be honest."

She nodded and smoothed a curl back from my face.

"Yeah, that'll happen. Are you hungry?"

"Mm," I leaned down and pressed my face into her neck again, cuddling. "Yes, but I don't want to move. Do you have somewhere you have to be?"

She held me to her and gently shook her head.

"Nope, I did my class and I've arranged to clear my schedule. I wanted to make sure you got what you needed. If you like, you can stay here, and I can run and get you some breakfast. It shouldn't take long."

I let my head loll onto her shoulder in a show of being too tired to think about such things.

"Mmmyeah, oui. But I'm not sure I can get off of your lap."

She giggled and cupped my jaw in her hand, leaning back and turning my head so she could look at me.

"Delphine Cormier, I'm not sure I've ever seen you quite this way," she teased, "are you sure you're the brilliant scientist and respected ivy-league professor on the go?"

I nodded decisively, certainly.

"Oui, but now you're going to be on the go for me."

She chuckled and kissed me, and when she shifted to rise I made a great show of sliding off her lap onto my feet, and then slipping into the chair to lean back in it in her place.

"Wow," she shook her head. "Okay, I'll be back." She gave my hip a little swat. "Not that I mind, but are you sure you don't want to put something else on your rear, out here in the open air?"

"Pfft," I shrugged, "who's going to see me over the porch wall? Some birds?" I was amusing myself.

"Oh, very daring," she joked back, leaning down to give me another kiss, then, against my mouth, murmured "scandalous," and lightly bit my lower lip.

Tingles. All over.

She hopped off the porch and swayed off, and I watched her go. I did feel loose, happy, but it was true, I wasn't fully recovered. I'd never expected to have an experience like that, to be so moved, somehow, by a "holistic healing" treatment.  _Is that what she saw in Shay,_  I thought,  _beyond them communicating similarly, with wit and humour_? My mind moved to an image of them kissing, and I felt my shoulders start to clench a bit in defense, but then I let it go.

 _That was a long time ago,_  I reminded myself.  _There's nothing that's been more real than us together, and nothing to come between us now._

Or was there? I felt a dip in my stomach, and knew there was more, so much more we had to talk about, to negotiate, to be together. There was both our past, and it was a convoluted one, and there were the logistics of the present. We were on a magical island, now, it felt, outside of time and our daily lives.  _What if…_

But I remembered floating in the water, supported, and I let out the breath I was holding. I let my body go slack again, and just listened to the sounds of the forest around me, let my gaze go soft-focus on the swaying leaves.

_Take your time… be in the now._

After a bit, I heard the swish of feet on grass, and turned my head to see Cosima approaching, a tray in her hands, minorly rebelling in walking just to the side of the path, rather than on it.  _That's her,_  I thought.

"Hey," she said again, that sweet fondness in her voice, and joined me on the porch. She put the tray down on the table and pulled the other chair up beside me. I leaned over and kissed her after she sat, and her lips pressed softly back into mine, the barely-there sound of her inhale revealing she was breathing me in.

We looked at each other with lazy smiles for a moment, and then I opened the tray. There was a basket of small muffins with butter and jam, a bowl of yogurt — real dairy! — with fruit, more water, and an empty mug. As I looked, she got up and walked behind me on the porch, then sidled up to me with a large thermos and a small bottle. She poured coffee out of the thermos into my mug, and set the bottle down next to it, announcing "milk" as she did. She walked back to her chair and I happily set to, taking a bite of a delicate berry muffin and following it with a long sip of warm brew.

She watched me for a little while as I filled my stomach, seemingly enjoying just looking at me, then giggled a bit when I got some jam on my face.

"You're so cute," she told me, as I wiped it away, and I felt compelled to lean over and kiss her, a small frisson of delight at her words easing into a warm, lazy bliss. She kissed me back and smiled as I re-settled in my chair and started in on the fruit and yogurt, then cocked my head at her.

"You really cleared your schedule for me? You don't have to work?"

"Mm-hm. I've got a little pull around here."

Cocky Cosima was adorable.

"Well, then," I raised my eyebrows flirtatiously, "what would you like to do?"

Her spreading smile showed she knew exactly what I was thinking.

'Well, I'm definitely looking forward to some indoor time, but I also thought maybe we could go to the beach. There are some beautiful spots I could show you, and I still want to take you to eat at my favourite place."

"Hmm," I looked at her mock-seriously, "decisions, decisions." She laughed.

"Come on, it's your vacation. I want to share my hangouts with you. And, what's better for building an appetite for 'indoor time' than hanging out together all day in the sun and surf with you in your bathing suit?"

"You make a fair point," I allowed. "Okay, let's do it. As long as I get you alone in my bed later on."

Her grin widened and her cheeks tinged.

"Fair deal," she said.


	23. Chapter 23

It was the prettiest day yet at the resort. As the sun climbed it burned off the humidity, but the breezes off the water and the shade of the palm trees kept us comfortable. Cosima had taken us on a short hike down from the bench below the stairs to a small, stunning cove, with sands the creamy yellow of the inside of a banana and a natural break from the waves offshore.

"Go a bit further down and it gets rougher, more like a pebble beach," she told me. "A lot of folks go there because it's close to the tent hotel, but this is more private."

She had a surprise for me. After we slathered on some kind of reef-safe, water resistant sunblock — this time with considerably more lingering touches than the time at the park entrance — she opened her surprisingly large bag and pulled out two sets of snorkel gear.

"Ever do this," she asked.

"Once, as a child, but it was at a busy beach. Not much to see besides other people's legs," I answered. She chuckled.

"I bet you looked at 'em, though," she said. "Kids are so curious. Between that and your scientific mind, I bet you were like me when I put on my little pool goggles and checked out everyone's feet and any seaweed or shells I could find."

"Hmm," I countered, following her lead on cleaning the snorkelling goggles. "Are you sure that was it? You weren't checking out the legs and rear ends of pretty girls?"

She went a shade pink, her mouth open.

"Um,  _no_ , not when I was, like,  _eight_ ," she told me, pulling the gear over her head and securing it to her face, so her next words went nasal, "but, maybe later, yeah." She winked behind the plastic, and dove off into the water further out.

It took me a moment or two of struggling to get my swim flippers on, but when I did, a few kicks brought me up to her. The water was slightly murky, with enough chop on it to make the sunbeams wink and dance and the range of visibility fairly close.

We swam for some time, each of us stopping to point out fish or other small sealife, and then some fan coral, further out.

"It's so pretty, and quiet, really like another world," I told her, when we surfaced for a few minutes to breathe and talk.

"Yeah, well, but it  _is_ our world, there's more of it than land on Earth."

"Cosima, I know," I scolded, flicking a little splash of water at her. "I was feeling things, being romantic."

"Ohhhhh," she nodded sagely, the pink marks from the tight facemask that was now on her head standing out against her face. "I was beginning to wonder how you became a professor."

I treaded water closer to her, so we slid against each other while bobbing.

"Brat," I said, my lips close to hers. "Are you now going to lecture me on the host-parasite relationship of sharks and remora fish? Are you going to dazzle me with explanations of the benefits of phoretic communalism?"

"Mmm, Doctor Cormier," she hummed, and slipped one arm around me to pull me against her. "Talk science to me."

We shared a long kiss, just moving our legs enough to keep our heads and shoulders above water. The taste of salt on her lips mixed with the umami of her hot mouth and the sliding of her tongue on mine made me wish for a solid surface to push her against. I expelled a sigh as she gently broke the kiss.

"I never thought I'd feel that again," I couldn't help sharing. Then, when she cocked her head at me, "This kind of… comfort mixed with desire. I've only had that with you."

She touched my face, and the look in her eyes was serious, full of years of buried love welling to the surface.

"Me, too," she told me, "Never quite the same. I thought it was maybe just part of being young and dramatic, that I had clung to you because of, of pheromones and… the heightened situation, but it was you." She kissed me again, softly. "You make me feel young again."

I sighed into her, rubbing my nose against hers.

"We're not so old," I countered. "In fact, we're pretty much in what's considered our sexual prime." I ran my hands down her back.

"Actually, that's a myth," she told me. "There's no such thing as one sexual peak or prime, unless you're talking about quantities of hormones. It has more to do with how you feel with your partner."

"Ah," I said, fingers slipping under the band of her swimsuit bottoms to stroke the top of her derrière, "then you're saying you feel quite good with me?"

She answered me with another kiss, this one with more force behind it, and I matched her in my response. She gave a little wiggle and a kick as we slid against each other and pulled back with a small groan.

"This could lead to drowning," she said. "I was gonna try to show you something out here, but maybe we should head back to shore."

"D'accord. Although I'm curious as to what you were going to show me."

"Well," she started, and my hand squeezed around one cheek of her ass, making her draw in a hiss of breath. "That really doesn't matter…"

We kissed again and she moaned and pulled away, tugging at my hand.

"Let's go," she said, and slipped her mask and snorkel back into place. I copied her, setting the mouthpiece into a grin, and we began to swim back.

We'd not gone long, however, when she paused, turning her head.

"Well, whaddaya know," she exclaimed. "Looks like I'm going to get to show you my friends, after all." She smiled at me. "Just follow me, Professor."

I swam after her for a bit, and when I saw her pointing, I could make out a dark shape in the water. It was moving, but I couldn't see what it was in the somewhat hazy underwater light, yet. As we drew closer, the shape resolved and separated into two forms: two black sea turtles, slowly flapping their flippers to swim, appearing like two large birds flying in slow motion. We got closer to them, and they didn't falter. I could see one eyeing us as we drew alongside them, its large eye in its beaked face looking somehow wise, evaluating, but they continued to swim with us at their sides.

They were beautiful, both hard and soft, ungainly and possessing a timeless grace. Their shells were streamlined, tear-shaped, with lovely patterns of light and dark. We swam above them, below them, admiring their serene rhythm but being careful not to touch or spook them. As we proceeded into the shallows, one angled up and broke the surface of the water, taking in an audible breath. Then, they both angled downward about forty-five degrees and started grazing on the plants growing on the rocks and shards of coral.

We watched them for some time, turning to smile at one another, until Cosima gestured at me to surface.

"Wow," I said, as we both took snorkel-free breaths. "They're so beautiful. There really is something ancient and majestic about them."

"I know, right," Cosima grinned at me, then nodded landward. "I'm getting pretty waterlogged. Want to get out?"

I nodded, and we swam just a bit before we stood up, the water at my waistline, and removed our fins. We carefully picked our way around rocks and back up to our blanket on the beach.

"That was amazing. Thank you," I said, as we towelled off. "I've never seen anything like that before, in person."

"Well, I wanted you to get the full experience of this place," she grinned, squeezing water from her dreads. "Although, it's pretty barren compared to Belize… or Hawaii. I would love to take you to see the coral reefs there, sometime."

I straightened, dropping my towel and moving closer to her until I encircled her waist with my arms, our hips pressed together.

"Really," I asked, and brushed her lips with my own, "you'd love to take me?"

She let out a small chuckle, but then she looked at me, eyelids low, eyes mapping my face. She pushed a lock of wet, blonde hair behind my ear.

"Yeah," she finally said, softly. "I would, someday."

"Someday…" I let the end of the word turn up into a question, but she just leaned forward and kissed me slowly, deeply, and with a shiver I pulled her closer and kissed her back.

Our kisses were deep, soulful, passionate, yet not as rushed or desperate as before. Hands roamed each other's faces and backs, then began to travel to rear ends, hips, stomachs, thighs, her warm fingers pushed under my bikini top and stroked my breast, and I exhaled a small grunt of flaring desire into her mouth. We sank down onto the blanket and continued to kiss, to touch, propelled further by our attraction, but taking our time. I ended up on my back, her head between my legs, licking the salt water and flowing wetness from ma chatte, burying her tongue inside me again and again, and then sliding in two fingers, three fingers, four, as she pumped into me, her tongue moving quick-slow-quick in circles on my clit. My eyes turned upward, taking in the puffy, slowly tracking clouds in the so-blue sky, and then squeezed shut as I shuddered. When I came I yelled out to the sky, to the beach and the ocean and the jungle around us, not caring who or what heard us, even wanting them to hear.

We held each other and kissed, until a stiff breeze gusted over us, and Cosima turned away, spitting out sand with cranky little noises. I laughed, but I had to wipe some grains from my eye.

"This could be a problem real quick," she noted. "You don't want all that getting in your openings and cracks,"

"'Openings and cracks,'" I chuckled at her teasingly.

"Nooks and crannies?" She smiled along with me. "C'mon, let's head back and get a shower and a bite to eat."

I pulled myself together and we packed our bags back up, then made our way to the stairs, holding hands.

I smiled as we climbed the stairs, watching the mist from the waterfalls condense in a shine of dew on her tanned arms and shoulders. When we reached the top she held the gate, and then we joined hands again, walking back to the cabins.

She walked with me into my cabin in a sort of silent agreement, and we slipped into the shower together, washing off the sand and salt with slow strokes punctuated by embraces and kisses. We dried off, and made it back into the bedroom, where I pulled her down on the bed on top of me, our lips and bodies meeting again languorously, the familiar forms and rhythms we knew still punctuated by small surprises, unexpected touches, strokes of tongues and tender bites.

"Mmmm," a low noise of enjoyment sighed out of me as she buried her face in my neck, kissing the muscles I had relaxed to lean my head back, exposing my whole throat and clavicle to her ministrations. My hands found their way around her shoulder blades, and I squeezed the solidity of her above me, feeling her weight press me into the bed.

"Hmm," she said, and I could hear the smile in her voice. "Comfy? You seem a little tired."

"Just a little sleepy," I said. "I guess yesterday really drained me, and then the sea and sun…"

"Alright," she said, "there are a couple of other things for me to set up before we go to dinner, later. Would you like to take a nap?"

My jaw stretched in a yawn before I could stop it, as if in answer. She kissed my cheek.

"Okay, sleepyhead," she teased softly, pushing herself upward with her arms to hover close above me. "You get some rest. I'll come back later."

"Mm, can't you stay," I asked, eyes already shut and another yawn threatening. I gave her a little hug to me.

"I won't be long," she chuckled, and stroked my cheek. "You won't even miss me."

She stood up, sliding away from me, and I caught her hand with a squeeze.

"Impossible," I murmured, my consciousness beginning to drift, and she smiled at me, kissing my fingers and lowering my hand to let it go.

I was out before I knew it.

When I woke the sun filtered through the window shutters at a lower angle. It was late afternoon, perhaps, but it was a good feeling knowing I didn't even have to know what time it really was. I was always aware of applying myself efficiently and being punctual when I worked. Now all I wanted to do was soak in the lazy haze of a post-nap stretch… post-coital and, I grinned to myself, most likely pre-coital, too.

There was a small noise, the creak of a floorboard, perhaps, out on the porch, and I pulled on my robe and opened the door. There was Cosima, seated on the floor with her back against the wall, knees bent and writing in a small notebook with great concentration.

"Figuring out the next great discovery in biology," I asked her with a fond, teasing smile.

She looked up at me and squinted, as if clearing her head and refocusing, then gave a small half-smile.

"Nah, just journalling. Besides, you know I don't do that anymore."

Her voice had come out somewhat flat, and my smile faltered.

"Oh, I hope I didn't say something to upset you," I offered. She gave a low sigh and put her journal down next to her on the floor, then patted the space next to her for me to sit down. I did so, gathering my robe under my legs and sliding my hip and shoulder against hers. She took my hand and began tracing patterns in my palm with her fingers.

"Huh, well, not you. It's just I have a different life, now. But you're not used to that, yet. I hope you will be, over time."

I tilted my head to try to catch her gaze, now focused on our hands.

"You seem to really enjoy science, still, though," I ventured. "Have you ever thought of… taking it up again?"

She pushed out a small, breathy laugh that didn't sound particularly amused.

"Ahh, that was a long time ago. It's too late for all that."

I stilled her hand by grasping it with my own.

"It's never too late, mon amour, if that's what you want. You are one of the most brilliant people I've ever met…"

"Do you think I'm putting my brilliance to waste, doing what I do, now, instead? Maybe being a holistic healer is a little fringe, a little less impressive." Her voice had an edge of aggression to it, and I paused. I took a breath and took her chin in my hand, tilting it up until she was looking at me.

"Cosima, I never said that. You seem to be excellent at what you do, and mostly, you seem happy. That's all I want, for you to be happy, whether it includes evolutionary development or, or energetic healing or not."

I looked at her with love until her eyes and lips softened, and she let out a little sigh.

"Yeah. Thanks, I just… it's kind of a sore spot, you know? Mostly I'm over it, but still, sometimes… and then being with you… that was one thing that brought us together, right? Our knowledge, and curiosity and love for the studies, the quest for solving scientific puzzles, making a difference. Not that I don't make a difference, now, I know I really do, but…" Her words seemed to catch in her throat.

"I know you do," I reassured her, stroking her face, catching her eyes again with my own. "I was the one that got the, the 'whammy' yesterday, as you said, yes? I see how people love and admire and appreciate you, here."

She gave a small, uncertain shrug, and her lower lip trembled.

"Mon cœur en sucre," I soothed her, softly. "Are you worried about what I think, what other people think, or what you think of yourself?"

Her eyes became teary, and she gave a small sigh, then rested her sweet head on my shoulder.

"I don't know. Yes. To all of them. I guess that's not very self-actualized of me." She was trying to lighten her feelings with humour, as she often did. I slipped my arm around her and stroked her shoulder.

"It was my own decision to give it up," she said. "I thought I had to, to be safe. And I had so much, like, PTSD from DYAD and the disease and everything… I just, I never thought it would be possible, again. I mean…" she tilted her head back, looking up to try to stop a tear from spilling over, but it did, anyway, leaving its track down her face. "I didn't go to my father's funeral. My adoptive dad. We'd had some issues in the past, and I Skyped with him a couple times when he was in the hospital, but I just couldn't…" She shuddered, and more tears came spilling out. I squeezed her against me. She was quiet for a moment, and when her voice came out again, it was very small.

"I still thought Topside would be after me, or the government. Whoever. Someone, anyone. I don't know. And I was pregnant… and I wasn't sure how to explain that to him or to anyone and not get my baby involved, make him a target…"

She broke down into sobs, and all I could do was hold her, rock her, as sympathetic tears flowed from my eyes, as well, my heart breaking to fit the jagged scars where hers had roughly healed in the years since then. She moaned into my shoulder several times, her body wracked and her fingers clutching and gathering my robe. But then, after a time, she began to ease down, to quiet.

I kissed the top of her head, her temple.

"I'm so sorry, mon amour," I said, my hands stroking her back.

She hitched and snuffled, and then straightened up a bit. She blew out a held breath and looked at me, then looked around, finally picking up the hem of her tank top to wipe her face.

"Ugh," she grumbled, her nose a bit stuffed. "Sorry. I guess there's still some stuff there, from back then. At least my mom got to know she had a grandson. We even got to meet up with her one Christmas. It was pretty great until she started quizzing him on the birth of Jesus…" she let out a laugh at that, bittersweet.

"My love," I called her, and kissed her forehead. I used the sleeve of my robe to dab her wet face.

"They were my monitors, too. Of course you knew that. But they were… pretty clueless, like Donnie was. They just thanked the Lord that kind doctors had helped them find a baby girl to love, even if she needed monthly medical tests." She sighed and stretched out her legs.

"That was really hard to get over, to forgive, you know," she said. "And there was so much distance between us, emotionally. I couldn't even really begin to explain to them about what had happened, the whole project. I mean, I basically had stormed out of the house the minute I was eighteen to stop hearing about 'getting married' and 'bible college.' They were just…" she sighed and paused again. "It was like we were from different worlds, somehow. And I guess we kind of were."

This was the most Cosima had ever shared with me about her parents, the people who raised her, and it struck home far more than her few, deflective remarks about them being "Jesus freaks," and "holy rollers" when we were together in the past. I was getting to know her in ways I never had, but at the same time, I ached to take her pain away.

"I'm sure…" I started, then I stopped, not wanting to make assumptions or sound condescending or trite. "Do you think they still loved you," I asked, instead.

"Yeah, they loved me," she answered, her voice sounding tired, "and I loved them. It was just… what it was." She looked up at me, eyelashes still wet, nose red, her mouth twisted slightly and compressed.

"Mon amour," I said again, and kissed her cheek. "That must have been so hard for you."

"Yeah, well, could've been worse," she responded, with a small shrug.

"And… your mother? When…?"

She blinked at me for a moment.

"Oh, she's still alive," she explained. "She just got married to, like, a total asshole. Yeah, I mean, they're on their own path or whatever, but there's no way I'm subjecting myself or my child to his bullshit. We don't speak at this point. It is what it is. 'I let go with love,'" she said, as if in half-mocking affirmation. "When she stops making faces at my 'lifestyle' and the 'two men who take care of her grandchild,' we may visit again." She huffed out a small laugh. "So at least that didn't have anything to do with being a clone."

I gave her a small, reassuring smile back and stroked her face, then gave her a chaste, but loving kiss. She chuckled a bit, again, and kissed me back, then straightened up, breathing normally again. She looked up at the sky for a moment before speaking again.

"I, uh, didn't mean for all that to come out on you," she said, and then looked at me from the sides of her eyes. "I guess, just… being with you, has opened the emotional floodgates, you know?"

I nodded, but a worried crease must have appeared on my forehead, because she kissed between my eyebrows and ran her finger down my nose.

"Hey, that's a good thing, okay," she said softly. "Our… my trust is coming back. I really want to be able to share things with you, things we didn't get to, before. That's like, serious love." Her voice took on a mildly joking tone at her own awkward words, but I knew she meant what she said. I pulled her to me, hand cupping her head, and held her close, our faces cheek to cheek. We both inhaled each other and the faint smell of flowers on the cooling evening air.

"I love you," I said, and she hummed, stroking my back. When she leaned back she looked much lighter.

"Okay, now that that's over, care to come with me to get an excellent dinner?"

I nodded and said "of course," but there was a part of me that felt uncertain, unsettled. I managed to restrain myself from chewing my lip until she turned her head.


	24. Chapter 24

We walked down to the dock together, her smile growing as we got closer.

"So, where are we going?" I asked. I knew we were in a pretty remote area. Were we going to another resort that wasn't restricting its restaurant to organic, vegan fare?

"You'll see," was all she said, and her tongue pressed between her teeth.

The same small boat I had arrived on was at the dock, along with a young man with a gap-toothed grin.

"Heyyy, Junior," Cosima called, going through a funny little series of handshakes and fist bumps with him. "Ambos llegamos aquí esta vez. ¿Cómo son las olas en Jaco?" She rattled off the Spanish pretty quickly, and with what sounded like a surprisingly good accent. I was impressed.

They spoke affably for a few seconds in Spanish, and then she turned to me.

"Alright. Are you all ready to go?"

"Yes," I answered to her smile, and she and Junior bracketed me to help me get into the boat safely. There was a bit more discussion in Spanish, and then Junior finished untying from the dock and started the engine.

"Okay, Miss Delphine, away we go, ah? Pura vida." His smile was wide and genuine, and my spirits lifted.

We moved out into the water and began to pick up speed. For a moment I smirked at myself, remembering how the last time I was in this very same boat, I was miserable and convinced I might die.

"I didn't know you speak Spanish," I commented to Cosima, as she sat next to me and put her arm around my shoulders.

"Well, I've been coming here for years. It would be pretty fucking rude of me to work with and make friends with people and not learn their language. Plus, Sevvy is half Spanish, you know. Teo is making sure he grows up bilingual."

"Ah, yes," I chuckled, "but I'm a little jealous. It would be nice if you could speak French."

"Oh, I dunno," she smirked, "I think the mystery factor when you speak French is fun, especially when you're having a good time." She wiggled her eyebrows, and I knew she was referring to times when I reverted to my mother tongue in bed. "Also, I wouldn't want to get too used to French pronunciation. You know I find your accent hot. Would you want me to stop noticing it?" I had to laugh at this.

"I'm pretty sure that's not how it works," I said.

"No? Speaking of which, you've been in North America a long time. I'd've thought you'd have lost it."

"Mm, well, after I was released by the%u2014" I instinctively looked over my shoulder at Junior, and figured between the engine, water and wind noise, he probably couldn't hear us if we weren't shouting "%u2014 the military, I spent some time back in France. I needed to get away for a bit, to ground myself, you know?"

She nodded at me, looking into my eyes thoughtfully, urging me with her gaze to go on.

"I spent a while there. It made me remember who I was before all that business. Especially seeing my sister."

"Aurélie, right?" It had been so long I could tell she had to sift through her memory to recall the name.

"Yes."

"How is she doing? Did your visit go well?"

I felt a fond gratitude for her remembering that my sister had had troubles.

"She's doing quite well, now. She's married to a lovely man, and they have a daughter, with another baby on the way." I'm sure my expression showed my deep happiness over this, for them, that in this life that could be so treacherous they had found contentment.

"That's fantastic," she grinned at me. "And no recurrence of long-term effects or anything transferred to the children?"

"No. Everything has gone well, I'm grateful to say."

"Partly due to you," she told me seriously, her gaze reassuring.

"Mm, not so much," I bowed my head for a moment, touched, but feeling undeserving, "but thank you."

She was one of the few people who knew about the sleeping sickness, how it had infected my mother and my sister, eleven years younger than me, just a child, while we were on a questionable business trip with my father in Uganda. Tryopansomiasis, a dire illness, caused by the transfer of a parasitic protozoa from the bite of a tsetse fly. The symptoms showed quickly in my sister, fever, pains and itching, odd patterns of sleeping and wakefulness, swollen lymph nodes, and a lethargy that began to go beyond feeling ill, that indicated changes in neuromotor function.

By the time we got her to a place where she could be treated, she was unconscious more often than not. While my father screamed and railed at local residents, authorities and doctors, I did my best to tend to her, to keep her company, keep her alert with games and stories. Fortunately, she began to improve.

Which was when my mother suddenly came down with advanced symptoms.

It was known to happen. An infected person could appear healthy throughout the first stages, only to deteriorate rapidly once the disease passed the blood-brain barrier. She fell fast and hard, and there was only one medicine available to treat her.

It seemed to be helping. Melarsarprol, a derivative of arsenic. Until it killed her.

My father became distant, occupying himself with work and alcohol, for over a year. I cared for Aurélie, when the au pair he hired proved negligent. It took a long time, but she began to recover. When she was able to catch a ball again for the first time since being stricken, he broke down and cried, hugging us, and began to be a father to us again. But I remembered how he had fallen apart, let his own selfish grief immobilize him and allow her to suffer. Someone had to be strong, to use their love in active service and protection.

Aurélie needed extra care, therapy, but she recovered. Her growth was slightly stunted. She would always be small, but an irrepressible, sunny spirit animated her short frame with curiosity, kindness, mischief and love. By the time she reached puberty, her motor skills were normal, and I was working on my doctorate in immunology, concentrating on host-parasite relationships.

When I had first met Cosima, I think her playful nature, her inquisitivity and intelligence, even her smaller stature all spoke to me, reminding me just beyond subconciously of the person I most loved, my sister. I thought, even if I was her monitor, that we might be good friends. But when I really got to know her, see the differences, the sensuality, the fire that she carried within her, the storms beneath the sun, I fell hard and fast.

And of course I had wanted to protect her.

I had worked through these things, over the years, done the psychoanalysis, mostly on my own, but with the help of one therapist it took me months to trust enough to share just the rudimentary outlines of it all with, not revealing anything about DYAD, Leda, that the lover I'd lost had been a clone. It all had to be vague.

So, perhaps, my healing was vague, too.

Cosima didn't know all this, either, all the details. Just the shorthand, bits and pieces from those few times when we were together long enough to talk into the night, to share parts of ourselves beyond the looming crisis we were in at the time.

But she remembered what I had told her, deep into the early morning, my voice low and resolute, but vulnerable. And it was sweet.

So what was still bothering me?

I gathered my thoughts. I didn't want residual sadness from so long ago to taint this beautiful now, our togetherness, her sweet face lit golden by the dipping sun, the sparkles off the water.

"And your father," she asked. A small sigh caught in my throat.

"It went well enough, with him. He had a young, new wife at the time, closer to my age than his. She's quite nice, really. Her children are delightful. They're in high school, now, Magda and Jacek."

She was tilting her head at me, squinting. I think she could tell that there was more to these stories, more emotion within me than I was going to expose or release at that time.

"I felt that I%u2026 fit more in North America, at that point, I think. And I definitely fit more in teaching science. Getting a job%u2026 I don't know if the government had anything to do with it, but I was definitely in more demand in the U.S. than in French academia."

"Your qualifications and brilliance would be enough," she said, tucking one of my curls that had been whipping in the wind behind my ear.

Looking into her eyes, I didn't want to dwell on these things anymore. She caught me glancing toward Junior and touched my cheek.

"It's okay, he knows. It's cool," she said, so I leaned over and pressed my lips to hers gently. We shared several kisses, not using tongues or teeth, but lingering in soft, almost innocent brushes and pressure. I felt myself calm.

For the rest of the trip I tried to relax and enjoy the scenery: on one side open water and the changing hues of a slowly setting sun, and on the other, a series of beaches, sandy and rocky, with the vast expanse of the rainforest rising up behind them. We passed a couple small docks, but no evidence of a large hotel. I leaned against Cosima, enjoying her quiet presence, her warmth, until she turned to Junior and they began what seemed to be a joking conversation in Spanish.

After a short while, we rounded a curve in the coastline and a small cove with another dock in it appeared. Cosima turned to me and gave my shoulders a squeeze, a grin on her face.

"Almost there," she said.

Junior turned the boat and slowed it as we came toward the dock. We pulled up to it, a small wave pushing us so we just felt a slight bump as the hull met wood, and then he was out and tying the rope. Cosima rose, extending her hand to me.

"This is where we get off," she said, still grinning.

I took her hand and, once again, she and Junior steadied me as I made the transfer between sea and land. I took a look around me. The cove was lovely, small and steeply curved, with a beige sandy beach spotted with palms and the rainforest spreading out on a hill. The lowering sun was directly in the center of the view, proving we were facing West and could watch the sunset. There was a light cackling of some bird in the trees, and there, just nestled near the tree line, was a small wooden house raised on lumber posts. It had the grey look of weatherbeaten wood, but it was neat, with bright blue window frames and roofing. There were small flowering shrubs dotted around it, along with some potted plants, and I could just see the edge of a cultivated garden peeking out from behind it. In between the dock and the house was a low, blackened stone structure, some kind of walled fire pit, with a few logs and lounge chairs arranged around it. Smoke and the wavy lines of air refraction by heat were twisting upward from it, indicating a fire or coals inside.

"What a beautiful spot," I said. "Where are we?"

"This is my friend Javi's place. Junior is his son. Javi is the executive chef at the resort, and he's going to be making us dinner. Speaking of which%u2026" Her grin broadened as she looked back toward the house to see the door opening and a deeply tanned man with salt-and-pepper hair and a rounded belly come out and wave toward us.

"Hey, hey," he called over the distance, and Cosima waved back. "You made it!" His face broke into a large, enthusiastic smile.

Cosima took my hand and we walked from the dock toward him, while he walked from the house toward us. We met on the beach in the middle, and he gave Cosima a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, then turned to me with a jovial expression.

"Javi, this is Delphine, who I told you about. Delphine, my buddy Javi, an excellent cook and an all-around great guy."

"Dr. Cormier, pura vida," he smiled, turning his full attention to me and extending his hand. "It's an honour to meet you." I was charmed by his direct gaze and relative formality.

"Please, call me Delphine," I smiled back, shaking his hand. "Pura vida. Enchantée."

One of his eyebrows quirked up and he looked at Cosima, his smile skewing toward impish.

"I know," she said, and then hit him on the arm. "Don't get any ideas."

They laughed with each other and then he turned toward the house, touching my upper arm lightly.

"Come, Delphine. You're welcome in my house and you can freshen up, if you like. I have several drinks to choose from." He looked back toward the dock and called to Javi.

"¡Oye, hijo, cuando haya terminado aquí, vienen ayudar a este hombre viejo con los peces!" Cosima took my other hand as we turned and he guided me with his light touch toward the house.

Up closer, the house was even cuter, with a tidy deck with a porch swing suspended by a small overhang. There were a few spots of dry brown plants and barnacles low on the supporting posts, proving that the tide had risen to the house at some point.

Javi gave us a quick tour of the living room, which faced the ocean, and the well-appointed kitchen. He was obviously proud of it, and from what I'd seen in my journey and my pre-trip research it was fairly grand in comparison with typical, small houses in the area. He made a great show of explaining several wines he had in bottles on the counter, asking me to pick. I chose a deep red Spanish garnacha when Cosima's eyes lit up at its mention, and excused myself to wash off some of the salty sea spray from the trip. The water was fresh and the tiled bathroom very modern.

When I got back, they were both bent over at the waist in loud, hearty laughter, Cosima clutching her stomach and Javi with his hands on his knees. Junior was at the sink washing his hands and shaking his head.

"These two, always with the stories," he said to me with a small look toward the heavens, and when I looked at Cosima she stood back upright, getting her chuckles under control.

"We were talking about this German couple who came one time who were swingers. Let's just say seeing them try to recruit locals at the bar up the road was a classic, to say the least."

"She kept telling women completely stone-faced that she liked large _tetas_ , in the most horrible accent," Javi cackled, wiping a tear from his eye. I gave the small chuckle of someone not really in on the joke, but drawn in by the laughter of others around them.

"Alright, alright," the chef finally said, waving his hands downward. "You two go and enjoy the sunset and we'll make dinner. Enjoy your wine, and Junior will bring out some appetizers. Just let me know if you need anything else."

Cosima grabbed the bottle and we each took a glass as she gently herded me out the door. She gestured at the swing and I took a seat, with her settling just beside me.

"It looks like you two are old friends," I said, as she shook her head with a final chuckle and sipped her wine.

"Yeah, Javi was, like, the first person I got to know, here. He's fucking awesome, and it's no joke when the best cook in the area also gets the best weed." She dropped me a wink and I felt myself fondly shake my head a little like Junior had.

"Anyway, I wanted you to meet him and have a nice dinner here, in my favourite place, but this is mostly about spending time with you," she smiled, and gave a little push with her toes against the floor, coaxing the swing into a gentle back-and-forth. I glanced at the water, sparkling, the sun turning deep orange now, not far from the horizon, turning wisps of clouds yellow and pink.

"It's wonderful," I murmured, turning my gaze to see her profile, once again struck by the unlikely yet familiar state of being with her again, so close, seeing the face I had seen in my dreams, a few small lines upon it, perhaps, but just barely, and her skin kissed by the sunlight. "Thank you."

She turned to me and smiled, and the magnetizing force between us hummed and grew, until I felt myself holding her cheek in my hand, our lips touching in a slow, soft kiss.

"Well, thank you for coming," she said, when we pulled back. "I'm just, so, so floored and happy that you're really here." A brief shadow crossed her face, a small flicker of a crease in her brow, and I cocked my head.

"What's with that look," I inquired. "Is there something upsetting you?"

"No, no%u2026 it's just%u2026 strange, you know? Kind of surreal. I never thought this would happen, that we'd be like this, again%u2026 that we'd fall back in love, after everything that happened. It's kind of a mind trip. It makes me a little nervous, you know? Like, I'm hoping some shoe's not gonna drop out of nowhere."

"I understand," I nodded. "I feel that way sometimes, too. But, you know, in order for us to fall back in love, we would've had to fall out of it, first."

She looked me in the eyes, her gaze receptive, deep, and then kissed me again.

There was a small click and creak as the door opened, and we turned to see Junior emerging with a tray. He grabbed a small table with his free hand and muscled it over in front of the swing, and then put the tray down.

"Here we've got grilled bread and rosemary olive oil, grilled chard with butter and garlic, and a shrimp and fish ceviche," he recited. "I hope you like it, and are having a good time," he added, with a smile that turned slightly cheeky until I said thank you and Cosima shooed him away with a flick of her hand.

I took a deep breath filled with the aromas of herbs and spices and lime juice, touched with the sea air and the low, peppery roundness at the back of my throat from the wine.

"You're smiling like a little kid," Cosima teased handing me a small plate and a fork. "I can't believe your friend sent you to a vegan retreat. Good thing I showed up."

"Oui," I acknowledged, nudging her in the ribs, and then set about putting food on my plate.

The first bite of the grilled bread made my eyes close in surrender. I hadn't realized how hungry all the salt air had made me. Cosima chuckled as I took a bite of the greens and the ceviche in turn, groaning appreciatively.

"Mm, I think the proper reaction," I said, mouth still full, then swallowing, "is holy shit."

"Yep, that's a good one," she agreed, and began eating, herself. We sat there in companionable silence for a few minutes, both of us looking up to see the sun as it seemed to touch the water, then lower, turning darkening shades of red, the sky above a range of pinks and purples. We both sighed in satisfaction at nearly the same time, then looked at each other, chuckling.

The door opened again, and both Javi and Junior came out carrying some containers and a cooler. The older man grinned at us as he went by and they walked on to the fire pit. We watched them busy themselves, and soon we could hear the faint hiss of food hitting a hot grill, a blend of aromas of fish and vegetables wafting towards us every time the breeze shifted in our direction.

We took our time, finishing our appetizers and relaxing, watching another exquisitely beautiful sunset from that majestic peninsula. We held hands, and I felt we were both just taking things in, appreciating every gift the day had given us.


	25. Chapter 25

When dinner was served, the food was so good that we were quiet for some time, just eating. Javi had grilled fresh fish and vegetables on the fire and brought them over to us. The sun was nearly set, still casting a warm, roseate glow over the beach, and the face of the woman I'd so longed to see again. It was as close to perfect as things could get. Still, I felt a little, wriggling emotion in the back of my mind and the base of my throat. I couldn't catch on to what it was, yet, and I hoped it was just the ghost of feelings past, since I'd been thinking of my childhood. I tried to ignore it.

Cosima sat back, her plate on the table, the last quarter-glass of wine in her hand, and looked off into the distance. Her face was beginning to blur in the low light, and I caught her glancing at me a couple times. Finally, she cleared her throat.

"So, um," she started, then clasped her hands together, twisting at her rings. I put down my plate and waited, giving her my full attention.

"There's, uh, there's not a lot of time left in the retreat, so I wanted to, I don't know, check in with you, or something."

She looked up at me. I wasn't sure how to answer. I wondered why she seemed nervous, unsettled. Was my mood catching? I nodded slightly and said:

"Okay."

"So, are you planning on, are you heading to the airport right in the morning, after," she asked, several conflicting emotions seeming to flicker just under the surface of her face.

"Well, that's what my reservations say," I answered, trying to read her tone, feeling already a bit off and then finding it compounded by her hesitancy.

She took a breath.

"So, back to New Haven, huh," she said, her inflection part purposefully flat, part turning at the end into a question. I leaned a bit closer, wanting to find out what she was getting at.

"Cosima..." I began. But I was interrupted by the soft thump of Javi's feet on the stairs.

"Hey, ladies, are you enjoying yourselves," he asked, all smiles, and we both rushed to tell him how much we loved the food.

"Good, good. We'll have some sweets later," he chuckled, "but since the sun's almost down, I thought you might want to come out by the fire."

Cosima and I looked at each other, and then she nodded.

"Sure, sounds good," she said, and I rose to follow them to the fire pit, catching up with her and walking beside her, carrying my shoes, bare feet in the sand.

We reached the fire and sat down in side-by-side lounge chairs, him joining us on the log perpendicular to and just by Cosima's side. He offered us more wine and we both accepted some.

"Sooo," he began jocularly, "Delphine, how have you been enjoying your stay?"

"Ah, well, it's really beautiful here... and, of course, something of an adventure for me. I've never been to the rainforest, and the whole idea of going to this kind of retreat... It was given to me by a friend. So, nothing could have been as I imagined to begin with, and then when I saw Cosima..."

I looked at her, caught up in the memory of that first glimpse of her, our drawing together, discussions, experiences, rekindling our long-lost relationship, our love. She looked back at me, smiling, and I felt as though she was going through the same progression of thoughts and feelings, the way she had tried to resist it, how little time it took then to touch again, to swear our love. I didn't know how much Javi knew, and I couldn't think of how to express it. She reached over and took my hand, interlacing our fingers, and I could feel the unexpected happiness, the gratitude well up between us.

Javi let us have our moment of silent communing, sipping his wine through a grin, and then changed topics.

"And Cosima, how is little Severo? Is he growing whiskers, yet?" Cosima laughed.

"No, but he is getting bigger. He moved up to the next level in the fútbol league. He's getting better all the time, but Teo says every time I come to a game he doesn't do as well because he gets too polite."

They both cackled for a moment and I smiled.

"Doesn't he know that the first time some kid knocks your son down in front of you, you're going to go ballistic?"

"Javi," she laughed, pointing a finger at him, "you know I think violence is not the answer, man."

"Sure, sure," he grinned, "I know that's what you say, and maybe what you think now, but I also know you when your temper rises."

Cosima let out a good belly laugh along with him, and I had to laugh along, too. I had seen the scope of her anger, and it was good to imagine it in jest, especially when it was not aimed at me.

"So, you got any pictures," Javi asked, with a look that said he was quite sure she did.

"Yeah, yeah," Cosima chuckled, and reached into her pocket to pull out her phone. We all sat with quiet grins as she turned it on and started tapping. She found a photo folder, opened it, and pulled up a picture of her child smiling, so much like she did, in his tiny football uniform. It was adorable, and Javi's grin widened when she handed the phone to him and he saw it.

But my mouth went dry, and my breath caught. Because I'd seen something else.

Just a couple photos before in the folder, Sevvy was caught mid-motion as he touched the sticky cream in an ice-cream cone to Cosima's nose, her face scrunched up in amused surprise.

And just next to and behind them, someone was laughing, slightly blurred, head thrown back.

It was Shay.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, look! I'm posting with my phone from Iceland! Yippity skippity! :D

Although they continued to talk, I suddenly seemed unable to understand them, as if they were at the end of a long tunnel, or I'd forgotten English.  I wasn't sure what I was feeling, except that it was as though a cold stone had dropped from my throat to my stomach, my eyes prickled and my temples throbbed.  Is this jealousy, I wondered. Disappointment?  Shock?  Is this the ghost of the devastation I first felt when they left together?  Is it an echo of all those years when I wasn't sure where Cosima was, or if she was dead or alive?  Surely I'm stronger than this, with all the healing I've been doing, with all the love she has displayed over the past few days?

 

But I wasn't, or perhaps the time at the resort, the old memories and new experiences had just brought everything closer to the surface.  Maybe seeing evidence of them together, and recently, so recently, had made me feel so... so...

 

“Really?  Coool!  Hey, baby, can I show you something?”

 

Cosima’s question and hand on my arm snapped me back to the present.  My brain fumbled, catching up with how Junior had emerged from the darkness down the shoreline and whispered something in her ear.  I swallowed, and forced a small smile.

 

“Uh, yes.”

 

She rose from her chair, offering me her hand, and I took it.  I had a feeling like existing in parallel lifelines, one where I was soothed and warmed by her gesture and touch, and one where it made me profoundly uncomfortable.

 

We began to walk down the beach in the dark.  As we left the circle of firelight, she turned on a small flashlight that emitted a soft, red glow, rather than the usual beam. We proceeded for awhile, Cosima turning around to walk backwards and beckon me with a "c'mon, but be quiet," when I literally dragged my heels on the moist sand.  It was not going to be hard for me to remain quiet, at that point.  Rather, I felt my lips compressing together and my jaw tightening even as my stomach roiled. I barely wondered where we were going on this quiet beach in the dark.

 

Cosima slowed down, and I could tell even from behind her just from the projection of her cheek that she was smiling.  My eyes were adjusting to the low light, and I was just able to make out a dark shape ahead on the sand, a trail behind it, as if a small boat had been dragged ashore.

 

But it wasn’t a boat, and as we approached it, I felt some small sense of surprise and wonder even though my tension.

 

“Wow.  Isn’t she a beauty,” Cosima whispered, and I had to nod my agreement.

 

The beauty in the dark was a large sea turtle, propped up on the lip of a hole she’d evidently dug.  She did not look at us, but stared ahead as if in a trance, a viscous liquid dripping from her eyes.  Over the hole, her rear flippers and tail twitched, and there was a soft series of sounds as many round eggs dropped from her cloaca and into the pit.  

She was giving birth.  It was a rare and moving sight.  So why did it make me feel worse?

 

Cosima nudged her elbow against me gently and spoke, a wry tone still evident even under her breath.

 

“Ah, memories.  Actually, I wish I could’ve been as zoned out as she looks.  I opted to do a natural childbirth.  About halfway through I was yelling at the doula to take me out of the tub and shoot me with a tranq gun.”

 

I could tell she was expecting me to laugh at this, but instead I swallowed.

 

What was occurring before me was majestic, and perhaps I should have been dewy-eyed in awe and enchantment.  But, once again, maddeningly, for the umpteenth time on this trip, when my eyes filled with tears they were ones built by years of frustration, of sadness.  And anger.  I realized I was really, really angry.

 

I had always been the one to hold my composure, to attempt to communicate rationally and to get things done.  But this time, I couldn't hold it, hold it together.

 

I wheeled away and started taking rapid paces into the darkness, one hand over my mouth, trying to stifle my choking, keening noises.  There was a moment where I heard her whisper my name from behind me, then the barely-there scrunch of running footsteps on sand, as she fought to catch up.

 

I really had been using the full stride of my longer legs, stumbling between a walk and a run.  By the time she caught up and caught my arm, she was panting softly.

 

She touched my arm, and I yanked it away.

 

“Delphine,” she asked, eyes wide and still trying to keep her voice low, “what’s wrong?”

 

I was breathing heavily, too.  I cast a glance back toward where we had left the animal and began to stagger off again, trying desperately to slow my breathing as my solar plexus hitched and spasmed, as if from the force of physical blows.

 

“Delphine,” she called again, louder, and then managed to get in front of me, block me, put her hands on my arms.  “Jesus, baby, what is it?”

 

My hands came down, balled into fists, and I knew I must have looked wild, then.  I felt wild, like an animal.  Wild, injured and dangerous.

 

“I saw her.  I saw her in your picture.”  My voice came out harsh, strange, as if it belonged to someone else.

  

Her brow furrowed for a moment, trying to make sense of what I’d said.  Then her eyes widened again, and her hands squeezed my biceps.

 

“Shay?  Are you talking about a photo of Shay on my phone?”

 

My throat spasmed closed for a moment, and I wasn’t sure if a sob was going to come out or if I was going to be ill.  I pushed it out, a guttural whisper.

 

“Yes.”  My eyes were blazing into hers, even in the spare illumination of the starlight.  I saw her swallow and take a breath, and when she spoke she tried to keep her tone as calm and soothing as possible.

 

“Delphine, it’s alright.  I’m still in touch with her, we’re still friends, but nothing more.  Not for years, now.”

 

I sputtered and looked to the heavens, clutching my hair with my hands.

 

“Still friends?  Friends who, who know each other well, and… have had a romantic past, and… stayed in touch, stayed close… friends who share moments of laughter with each other’s children?”

 

She was confused.

 

“Well, yeah… she’s got a boy, now, too… adopted.  He’s a little younger than Sevvy, but we…  Delphine, what are you getting at?”

 

My head had begun shaking from side to side before I realized it, expressing a painful no of disbelief, shock, bitterness, and all those dark things roiling down in the depths from years before.

 

“Why,” I found myself shouting, pushing her away from me.  “Why did you remain friends?  Why is she still in your life?”

 

Cosima’s mouth was gaping.  Part of me expected her to bristle in her old knee-jerk, defensive assertion of herself and her actions.  But instead, she answered me carefully, voice a bit lower, still trying to remain calm.

 

“You know she helped me.  She helped get me away from DYAD, from Top Side.  We were on the road together for a long time.  We were both afraid we might get caught and suffer. We both gave up our lives and helped each other figure out new ones.  That... was some serious bonding time.  Even if we realized we weren’t meant to be more, if we decided to go our separate ways, that bond… that friendship still stayed.  We’re only in contact every few months, have seen each other in person maybe three times since Sevvy was born…”

 

“And when he was born,” I asked, my tone tumbling into accusation, “when you were there with your, his fathers and your doula, was Shay there, too?”

 

She straightened up, looking at me in the eye.  She still looked unsure, confused, but I think maybe part of her guessed some little piece of why I was upset, devastated, of what I was going to say.

 

“Yes,” she said simply.

 

I began to sob in earnest, tears flowing like the tide coming in, my hands pressed over my eyes.  This went on for some moments, I don’t know how long.  When I finally was able to look up, her hand was extended towards me as if she wanted to touch me, to comfort, but she knew better.

 

“She had a life with you,” I said.  “You ran off together, and… struggled together.  You, you bonded and made love and forged something that lasted through it all.  She… she was there with you when you fought and beat your illness, when you bore your son…”  I took a breath, and I could see her watching me, waiting, trying to understand and failing.

 

“Did you ever know that I thought about having children,” I asked her.  “Did you ever think of me, when… I mean, you said you were in contact with Sarah.  Surely she told you how I was taken into working for the military.  Surely she told you when I got out.”

 

She nodded slowly.

 

“Yes, but… I’m sorry, but I didn’t know who to trust.  I didn’t know if anyone was still watching you. And I… I’d kinda had to build my own life, my own identity.  It was never settled, never felt entirely safe, but… I had to protect what I had.  I didn’t know you…”

 

“You didn’t know me,” I interrupted, practically spat.  “You had to build a new life.  Did you ever think that that’s what I had to do, too?  Did you imagine that I was… that I wanted to know you, wanted to be your friend?  You say she helped you, and I’m grateful for that.  But I gave up everything for you, too.  I covered for you, all of you.  I did what I had to do to keep you alive.”

 

My chest was heaving now, but I was feeling weary, my body suddenly feeling burdened, again, leaden. I moved a little closer to her, lurching, trying to push my thoughts, my feelings into her with my eyes, trying to make her understand.

 

“I loved you.  I would have died for you.  But she was the one who got forgiven, got trusted.  She got to spend time with you, to rebuild your lives together.  She got to be your friend.  She got to be there for the birth of your child, to witness you, changing and growing and all those small moments that… that make us who we are, that make us know and love each other in little increments… make us connected, our bond strong.”

 

I shook my head a little, and stepped closer again.  My hands were also reaching without touching.  I wanted to shake her, to hold her, to push her away again.  Instead, I pushed out the rest.

 

“It almost doesn’t matter who she is.  She had a life with you, and I had a half-life.  She was with you to bring forth new life, and I didn’t even know if you were _alive."_

 

I think it hit her then.  Her face was a picture of shock, then pained realization, remorse.  Her eyes welled up, and she crossed the distance between us by cupping my cheek in her hand.

 

She stared into my eyes, and we both swallowed.  Her thumb stroked my face, sliding in the wetness of tears, and she took a deep breath, all the way from the ground up and out in a sigh, her lower lip just barely trembling.

 

“I’m sorry,” she said.  I felt a twisting in my gut.  My eyes slipped closed because I couldn’t take it in, absorb the moment.

 

“Delphine… my, my love,” she said, and she took my hands, holding them between us as if to form a bridge between our hearts.  “You have every right to be angry, to be hurt and sad.  I was a complete idiot, for so long, so many times.  And then I just buried it, told myself to move on.  But, but this is what I meant before, when you said there was nothing to forgive me for.  I was stupid, and I was fucked up and afraid, and I couldn’t even let myself register what you might be going through because it felt too hard.”

 

Tears were falling from her eyes now, but the world felt very still.  I could feel my vision clearing as I looked at her, some things sliding and clicking into place.

 

“So, I’m sorry.  I’m so, so sorry.  And I hope you can forgive me.  Because I do love you…” she choked a bit and squeezed my hands, and then she was sinking to her knees before me in the sand, her voice sincere and pained and reaching out without knowing how much to hope.

 

“And I want to try again,” she told me.  “I want that… all those little minutes with you that we missed.  Even if I spent all this time learning, trying to find ways to be grounded, a good person, to be loving and strong… it could never, never remove me from what I had with you, we had together.  It’s, it’s that strong.”

 

I sank to my knees before her, until our foreheads touched, and I was squeezing her hands in return, still unable to speak.  She let out a little noise, like her words were trying to rush out and getting stuck, entangled, choking her.

 

“I… I never told you this, never knew when or how, but…” She actually trembled, then pushed on.  “Maybe Shay was there for those things, but… the day you were sent to Frankfurt, I nearly died.”

 

I searched her face, shocked, confused, feeling as though my heart stumbled as she said this, knowing there was more.

 

“I had some kind of… near death experience.  That’s one thing that made me wonder about the world beyond science.  I was… so tired, sleeping, but then I was sort of hovering, outside my body.”

 

My breath caught in my throat and I had to gasp to move it in and out again.  I clutched at her hands, now, desperate at the thought of her dying, of the soul I so loved departing her body, even for a second.  She struggled to get out her next words.

 

“It was so easy.  I could’ve just… slipped away.” My hands moved of their own accord to her face, making sure she was solid, safe, that we were both there. "But then, I had a vision of you. You were there, touching me, saying you’d never leave me,” she revealed, and a trembling smile pushed through her tears.  “I came back for you.”

 

I felt shaken to my very core, so overwhelmed and devastated for her, for what came after, for both of us.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me,” I asked.  She shook her head slightly, eyes downcast, and I could feel her both reliving the pain and seeing her mistakes from the view of her wiser self, now.

 

“I didn’t think you believed in that stuff,” she confessed, and I remembered how I’d had to end our relationship, push her away, never knowing… “I thought we had to move on,” she said.

 

I knew she could feel it, the being unsure and stuck that had made her younger self writhe, the wrong-headed confusion of dire circumstances and fear, not just for her safety, but that she was unloved.

 

“My love,” I breathed, pulling my lip from between my teeth.  “Come here, come here.”

 

Our lips met with intensity, haunted by the ghosts of desperation, yearning and regret.  We breathed with each other, me holding her jaw and her slowly and gently touching my face, then circling her fingers around my wrists.  She let out a deep breath, and then met my gaze with her eyes, a small, determined smile forming beneath her tears.

 

“I want you to meet my son,” she said, “and I want us to trust each other and try… just, try to let the love we have for each other come out, this time, come out and win.  I want to give it a go, if you’ll have me, if you’ll forgive me, over time.”

 

We both cried freely for several minutes, and it was as though the pain inside us was leaking out, the sadness, anger and tension, forming a haze around us that mixed with the light, the emerging glow of our understanding, our realization, our love.  They whirled together like motes of dust in sunbeams, like the curling edges of clouds forming a storm, and we couldn’t separate them, yet we knew which one was waning, and which one could carry us forward, we could give into at last.

 

I kissed her again, softly.  I kissed her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks.  We pressed our lips together and then our bodies, folding into an embrace.

 

“Mon amour,” I finally was able to murmur.  “I love you so.  Thank you.  I… did need to forgive as well as be forgiven.  I just… missed you so much.  It’s been hard not to resent it.”

 

I cupped her chin in my hand and raised it until she was looking back at me, her eyes wide and receptive.

 

“But I’m learning how to be in the now,” I said.  “And I want that, I want that, too.  To give each other another chance.”

 

We leaned into each other, then, lips grazing, breath mingling, the hiccoughing of waning sobs interrupting our inhales, but coming slower, less often, until we both could freely breathe.  We shared a moment of stillness, nothing but the light of the stars around us, and I truly felt as though the storm I had felt around us slowed, then stopped, replaced by peace, an air of protection around us made by love.

 

We held each other, and I kissed her ear.

 

“This time you were right.  I did need to forgive you.  You’re brilliant, although clearly brilliant minds can still be stubborn, and stupid.”

 

“Yeah,” she chuckled.  “I’m afraid that, even after all my studying and meditating, I’ve concluded that’s something we still haven’t evolved out of.”  I chuckled, too.  

 

“No,” I agreed, “I doubt that’s going to happen anytime soon.  Though it would be a boon to our survival, I don’t think it’s a threat enough that we’ll get completely logical at any time.”

 

“Yes,” she interjected, with small giggle, and brushed her nose against mine.  “After all, so much of our beings are built on the complex, chemical interactions of instincts and emotions. And they can be quite useful.”

 

“Right,” I hummed, as we shared another gentle kiss.  “And, you know, love is, it’s an extremely important and useful adaptive trait.  I mean, to go beyond instinct of protection of the young and the herd, to share a, a reinforcing bond that stimulates the mind to seek more, to investigate and question—”

 

“Ah, and not just the mind,” she pointed out, her mouth drawing to mine again, then husking in a teasing murmur, “let’s not forget the body’s response to love.”

 

“Yes, of course,” I answered, the corners of my lips turning up in a small smile as I took her bottom lip gently in my teeth and grazed it with my tongue.  I slid my hands down and cupped her bottom, giving it a squeeze.  “We can’t forget the body.”

 

Everything seemed so much quieter, then, so uncomplicated.  We kissed slowly, stroking each others’ hair, arms and backs.  The only sounds now were the gentle, heavy hum and hiss of the waves rolling in and out, the breeze in the palm leaves, the soft, wet, satisfying noises of our mouths coming together again and again.

 

We sighed and leaned our heads together once more.

 

“I suppose we should get back,” I said, as if I was suffering to say it.

 

“Yeah, you know, this sand is pretty cold and wet,” she answered through a grin, and with another kiss we rose, hand in hand, and walked back toward the fire.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it, the final chapter. Thank you so much for reading and putting up with my updating delays at the end. I hope you enjoyed it. :)

When we got back to the resort that night, after what seemed a long, dream-like trip in the boat through the dark, we climbed back up the hill slowly, comfortably and sweetly quiet.  We got back to the cabins, and I drew her into mine, where we kissed in the dim light of the lantern, undressed each other with care, and made love.

 

It was different this time: calmer, slower, but somehow deeper, still.  We worked together, bodies sensing the other’s movements and changes of need, enjoyment, fulfillment, desire.  When I entered her soft, slick warmth, and she moved her fingers inside me, it was like I lost track of the difference between her sensations, her pleasure, and mine.  We weren’t goal-driven, because we knew we would get there, knew we were where we needed to be at that moment, and felt it all in full.

 

Full.  She was filling me, and I, her.  Not just with our fingers stroking interior walls reverently, rhythmically and in sync, but with our breaths, the pulses of our blood and hearts, the ebb and flow made up of our love and our path confirmed.  My doubts were silent, and they might come whispering back in the corners at other times, but for now I was just in love, and grateful for her, and I felt with the ease of her strokes and the roll of her hips, the soft, sliding press of our bodies together, that she must feel the same.  It was that ephemeral, resonant intelligence of the soul, that wisdom of the heart and flesh, that lent so much more to life that all we could devise with reason and intellect.  

 

I wasn’t sure exactly when the lovemaking flowed into orgasm, into respite, into sleep.  It wasn’t until the howler monkeys started making their ruckus close to dawn that time seemed to bend back to normal, the shifting of her head on my shoulder leading me to press a kiss to her forehead, to see her raise her slightly swollen eyes and squint up into mine in nearsighted wakefulness.

 

“Good morning,” she said, voice slow, deep and sweet, like blackstrap molasses.

 

“Good morning,” I answered back, and our lips met.

 

She hummed and then extended into a catlike stretch, finishing it with a sigh and a stroke of my face.

 

“I guess I have to get ready for class,” she mildly complained, “although I’d much rather stay here.”

 

“Me too, mon amour,” I told her, with a fond smile, “but I think I’ll get ready, too.  I’d like to share the morning with you.”

 

We smiled at each other as we washed and dressed, the contentment of a firm agreement between us.

 

And in her class, I was able to totally inhabit my body, to quiet my mind and register her voice with affection, while allowing my muscles and sinews to loosen, extend, lengthen in the moist, tropical heat and let go of tension.

 

Afterwards, we walked hand in hand to the restaurant, not caring if anybody saw.  We picked up two bowls of fruit and yogurt, plus cups of coffee, and made our way back to the porch of my cabin.

 

“So,” she said, as we finished our quiet, comfortable meal.  “Last day, today.  Anything in particular you want to do?”

 

“Mm, I don’t know,” I shrugged, tilting my head in thought.  “I want to be with you.  Do you have more classes?”

 

“Yeah, I’ve got one in the afternoon, and of course I’ve got to be there for the farewell fireside share, tonight.  But otherwise, we can hang out.”

 

I reached out and wiped a small fleck of strawberry from the corner of her mouth, and she turned her head to kiss my palm, taking my hand to hold it there.

 

“You know, we never did get to finish our talk,” she said.

 

“We didn’t,” I lightly asked, “which one?  I thought we resolved a lot.”

 

“Yeah, but I didn’t get to finish what I was going to ask you when we were having dinner.”

 

“Ah, right,” I nodded.  “Please, go ahead.”

 

“Well, remember I asked you if you were going back to New Haven after this,” she prodded.

 

“Yes,” I nodded, recalling, “and I said that was what my reservations said.”

 

“Mm-hm,” she nodded back, and kissed my palm again, interweaving her fingers with mine.  “What I was going to say after that was, I’m booked to teach a class up north a bit, at the observatory resort by the volcano.  It’s really pretty, there, less dense than this, but lots of green, cow pastures and flower gardens and hot springs...”

 

“Ooh, hot springs?”  I arched an eyebrow in interest.

 

“Yep.  Some public, some private. Geothermal, different mineral contents and temperatures.  There’s a few tucked into the jungle most tourists don’t know about, there are some larger spas with multiple pools and waterfalls, and even a swim-up bar.”

 

“A swim-up bar,” I echoed, “is it really wise to combine hot springs and alcohol?”

 

“Maybe, maybe not, but it can be fun,” she grinned, then continued.  “There’s also one right on the property, near the swimming pool, where you can sit and soak and drink wine or champagne, and watch the volcano right before you, with little puffs of smoke coming out, and distant rumbles of boulders falling down.”

 

"Sounds wonderful,” I said.  “What else?”

 

“Oh, there’s hiking, and horseback riding and day trips, and of course massage and my yoga class.  And then at night you can eat in the restaurant, which has wrap-around windows, so you can look out over the lake and see the sunset, and see the volcano to the side, so that as it gets darker out, the glow from the heated rocks stars to appear, and you can see them shooting out like fireworks, and leaving streaks of orange light down the mountain.”

 

“That sounds beautiful,” I smiled, stroking her cheek and up over her temple and down her hair.  “But is that it?”

 

“Oh, no,” she informed me.  “They make this fabulous molten chocolate lava cake, with ice cream.  And while you’re eating it, you can watch the bats swooping past the windows, and hear the mountain grumbling.  And then, if you’re very lucky, sometimes the volcano will really put on a show.  The electric charge from the eruption will excite the atmosphere, and you’ll see volcanic lightning striking, along with the sunset and the lake and the glowing rocks, all at once.”

 

“Hmm, excite the atmosphere, mm?”  I was making a show of drawing it out in slow suggestiveness.  “That does sound interesting.”

 

“Yes, the beauty and majesty of nature,” she solemnly pointed out in an exaggeratedly erudite voice.  “All perfectly safe of course.”

 

“Of course,” I nodded, mock-seriously.  “And after that?  After the lightning and the firework-explosions and the chocolate molten cake, what next?”

 

“Well, then you can retire to my comfortable room, complete with air conditioning, with its luxurious bed and a big window, so you can watch the flaming streaks of the eruptions as you recline.”  She leaned closer, her grin spreading, and pressed a kiss to the side of my neck.

 

“Really,” I breathed, still playing coy, “and then…?”

 

“Then you and I can make love all night, and I promise that, when I move inside you, when I bring my teeth to your neck,” and here she caught the flesh near my collarbone in a teasing bite, “and when I bring my tongue to your clit, you won’t know if you’re feeling the build-up to coming, or the earth shaking from the volcano erupting, and the lightning striking…”

 

She ran her mouth up my neck to take a soft nip at my ear, her tongue tickling behind my earlobe.  I scrunched up a little, overcome with sensation and chill bumps, then I turned to brush her mouth with my own.

 

“It sounds wonderful.  Of course, I’d have to make some re-arrangements…”

 

“Of course,” she agreed.  “My local friends at both areas can help with that.”

 

“Well then,” I started, but I paused.  It was all so seductive.  I wanted to extend this miracle of a getaway, to spend as much time as possible with her.  But there was still a small part of me that was nervous, afraid, because I didn’t know where we would go with this, how often or how we could be together again.  “What… what after that?”

 

She pulled back slightly to meet my eyes, and her gaze was contemplative, loving.

 

“Well, that depends on a number of things, but I was planning on being in the Berkshires a couple weeks after that, and then back down to Woodstock eight days after that.  So… not that far from Connecticut.”

 

“No, not that far, at all.  And it will still be summer break, then.  I might have finished my major preparations and have some time to… get away,” I answered, and as we kissed again, my heart leapt in my chest.  That was the next month, at least, and I’d get to see her multiple times.  I bit my lip, trying to just luxuriate in the moment, to not worry about the future, but appreciate what I had then.  But she wasn’t done, yet.

 

“After that… well, my calendar is pretty changeable.  I can shift things around here and there, be available to travel or visit…  I mean, I’ve been thinking of having more of a steady home base, you know, to be stable, spend time with my kid.”

 

“That sounds like a wonderful idea,” I acknowledged, and my smile spread so wide, my vision blurred a little bit.

 

“Hmm,” she hummed, kissing me, and then she leaned back and held my hand, thoughtfully rubbing the back off my knuckles with her thumb.

 

“You know, I don’t know what might happen after that.  I mean, I never expected _this_ to happen.”  I met her gaze with a nod.  “But... whatever happened in the past, however much we feel we might have missed, there’s still plenty of time, you know?  Time to explore and feel things out and make decisions based on what makes us happy… Maybe, I mean, I want to be there for you.  Maybe if you decide you still want to have children... I mean, we’re not too old, and we both know our way around the human reproductive system…”

 

I caught her lips up in a kiss, as once again my eyes brimmed with tears.  Happy tears, full of gratitude and possibility and hope.  Full of feeling connected, of feeling the weight of loss and dejection and resignation roll off my shoulders, leaving me grounded, but able to rise.  I kissed her, and kept kissing her as I held her face in my hands, until we pulled each other together, holding tight, in a safe, firm circle of love.

 

She gave me a squeeze, and pulled back to look at me.

 

“Okay,” she asked me.  “What do you think?”  

 

I looked into her eager eyes and saw her same old endearing excitement, which drew me to her from the moment we met.  I also saw her answering echo and reinforcement of what I was feeling, then.  It was fulfillment, and it was an agreement, a pact to work together as if it were play.  It was a world of possibilities borne from saying yes in the moment, right now.  It shone from her like I’m sure it did from me: acceptance, affirmation, and a fierce, binding hope for a _future_ , together.

 

“I think that, first of all, I should call my boss,” I answered, wiping my face.

 

_Holy of holies,_ I thought to myself, gathering my breath. _Thank you, Elaine.  I can never thank you enough._

  
Our retreat was about to become an expansion, and I was ready to jump into the unknown.


End file.
